


Real Slick Dean

by trilliath



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding Kink, Fertility Issues, Fuck Or Die, Knotting, Lots of semi dubiously questionably consenting sex sorta, M/M, Masturbation, Mild discussions of rape, Omega Dean, Rough Sex, Rutting, Shower Sex, and a side of feelings, and stuff, but mostly plotty porn, but not between cas and dean, i mean it's FOD sooooo, if that's a thing, oh and some dirty talk, shit lots of kinks, they figure out some kinks together hahah, whatever it's a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilliath/pseuds/trilliath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new alpha enhancer drug "Rutter" on the streets that gets used at "exclusive parties" for the worst purposes. Detective Castiel Novak and his partner Balthazar work hard to put a stop to it and other sex crimes in their work as Special Victim's top detectives.<br/>Ellen Harvelle's Roadhouse is both a bar and a refuge for unmated Omegas. The Roadhouse gives Omegas the opportunity have their heats in peace and, if they so desire, even sell an 'exclusive supply of high-grade slick for the unmated Alpha on the go!'.<br/>Castiel is just such an Alpha, career oriented and having no time for casual sex or potential mates. He's a regular customer who only buys donor D347's slick. He's also a family friend and advocate who helps Omegas in need get connected with Ellen.<br/>It's all fine until one night after a difficult bust he brings Ellen a new Omega about to have her first heat. What Alpha Castiel doesn't realize is that he's been over-dosed with Rutter during the fight and is about to go into a rut so bad he may die. And if that weren't enough to kill him, the embarrassment he's about to feel will, because he's about to meet donor D347 face to face and neither of them are prepared for what's going to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Alistair made us," Detective Castiel Novak says quietly into his phone. He's furious with himself, and with Naomi for refusing to give them the resources they needed. It never should have happened. They'd been so _close_ and then that had been exactly the problem. 

_"Oh, getting so close, Detective. But still too far, I'm afraid."_

_The man smiles to himself as he puts his just-doffed coat back on. "It seems I will have to change my evening plans after all. Disappointing, I assure you."_

"And we're about to bust another one of his locations. You need to get that warrant now."

"Castiel, there's no way. We just don't have enough on him. Can't you hold off on the bust?" Sam says, sounding tired. And well he should be, it's well past duty hours for all of them - the middle of the damned night. But that dedication is part of what makes Sam Winchester the best ADA the city has. It's also why they are good friends.

_His eyes are soulless when they return from the significant look sent up to the building on ahead. They promise a dark wrath that will be meted out in some unthinkable manner in the future for this disruption. It's terrifying, but it still makes Castiel glad because it means there's something in that building they're going to tear down, to ruin for Alistair. But the man hardly bats an eye as he obviously avoids the building and returns to his towncar, completely lacking culpability for whatever it is they're going to find._

Castiel sighs. "I know. But Sam, there's no time. He's not going to stay put. If we do not move now then it may as well be never, at least not until we find wherever he has set up his operation next." 

"Damn. _Damn_. Okay, fine. Do what you have to do. I'll… whatever. I'll make it work."

_"You do keep things interesting, Detective. I'll have to give you that. Well. I'd best be on my way again."_

Castiel thanks him and ends the call, moving quickly back up to Balthazar's position.

Castiel takes a steadying breath, dropping all thoughts of the big fish crime boss in favor of the present. He keeps his eyes on the move, scanning their surroundings as they slowly move around the building's perimeter, gathering what sparse information they can on a too-brief reconnaissance. It's still too late to do anything that will actually take Alistair down. But it's not always about the big picture. Sometimes it's about a few lives that might be made better. There's still a chance for recovering at least some part of tonight for the good guys.

"I don't think this is a drug location," Balthazar says quietly to Castiel, turning from his surveillance of the location.

Castiel pops forward for a quick scan, sees what Balthazar means. And then he swears. "Then that means…"

Balthazar's eyes are sharp with bitterness as he toggles his phone to call dispatch and relay the address. Castiel unbuttons his trench-coat so he can check his spare clips in anticipation of coming violence. Balthazar loosens his tie and does the same.

"Dispatch, time to upgrade to a 10-31, and, shit, send anyone available now. There's gotta be a dozen vehicles here at least, a dozen hopped-up Alphas. I'll bet my pants we're going to need a 10-52-Omega too."

"Copy," Dispatch replies, tinny through Balthazar's cellphone as she repeats the codes and gives him a rundown on available units as they respond. Castiel doesn't even have to look back to nod his acknowledgement, or to know that Balthazar is still at his back as they slip inside the mostly-abandoned building. Windows and doors hang broken and open, scents and sounds slipping through the cracks unhindered and unheeded.

It's not long before they can hear the sounds they're grimly expecting, the unmistakable sounds of a horrific act. The years of experience they share leave them both with cool heads despite the heart-wrenching sound. Castiel's heart is pounding, but it's nothing he hasn't felt before. Still, it's worse tonight than it is most nights on the job. Though being a police officer certainly has its moments, this time he's reminded much more strongly of his days as a soldier, missions of grim purpose and great import. 

And bad odds.

The stairs aren't silent, but they're quiet enough not to break through the raucous crowd inside the only apparently-occupied apartment on the third floor. They slide along the wall in silent accord, oil slick, smooth and inexorable. They stack at the door, listening. 

Balthazar taps his shoulder, a signal for him to move forward and through the door, stun-pistol at the ready.

He shakes his head, keeping Balthazar at a halt. _How long till back-up?_ Castiel demands with a curt hand-signal.

A sharp, piercing wail cuts through the air to the accompaniment of raucous jeers.

"Too long," Balthazar spits at a whisper.

Castiel winces as the wail cuts short, then turns to softer whimpers as the jeers continue.

Balthazar just gives him another look, and he nods. They can't stand by and let this continue, even if it means one or both of them goes down trying.

This time Castiel accepts his partner's ready signal. When they push open the front door the sentry gets a stunner to the throat, courtesy of Castiel's marksmanship. He goes down with a thump that gets drowned out by the noise the alphas are making in the next room with their victim. The dirty living-room is empty of any other Alphas.

In one corner there's a thin redheaded girl, probably no more than seventeen, folded into a cage, naked, reeking of fear. She stares at them with wide eyes as tears spill over her cheeks she clamps her hands over her mouth and nods wildly at their bid for silence. For a moment Castiel is reminded vividly of Anna.

She's an Omega, close to heat but not there yet. Castiel covers the doors while Balthazar picks the lock on her cage with steady hands that speak to his lifetime of practice with breaking and entering. He helps her down, whispering about police arriving soon and for her to get out of the apartment, to get somewhere safe and not too far. She nods over and over, still quiet, a fierce light in her eyes despite the tears. Then she snags a blanket from the lumpy couch and stumbles quickly towards the door out.

Balthazar slips up to his side, a question on his face as to Castiel's strategic assessment. It's clear which room the assault is taking place in, but the other door is still cracked and there are definitely others inside. Taking on two rooms was going to be tricky with just the two of them. Anything short of a two-pronged full frontal assault would either end up with them getting flanked or getting into a hostage situation that wouldn't end well for the Omega being raped in the next room.

Castiel gestures as much, but before they can do anything beyond exchange a glance, the door to the next room pops open, two raged-out Alphas shoving and shouting at each other, picking up steam for a full-fledged fight as they hit the stained living-room carpet in a heap, others spilling out in their wake. The other door opens further, revealing a quickly-dissolving poker game and someone shouting "Fight, fight-"

Until everything jerks to a halt when Castiel and Balthazar get noticed and then simultaneously announce themselves as police officers. They start firing as hands reach for weapons.

The next few minutes are a familiar blur of shouting and gunfire and smells of violence and sex. With anyone else at his side, Castiel would not have felt any hope for their chances to take on overwhelming odds, but he and Balthazar have been partners for years. They don't need to speak, to look at each other even, to make it through a situation like this. They've survived worse together. Castiel empties his stunner pistol into every alpha in sight within seconds of them bursting through the door, hurrying over bodies to get to the room before it can get any worse.

He slams home another clip as he clears the doorway, fires again into the remaining Alphas in the room, ones who are still actively inside the sobbing Omega, too lost in raging instincts to even notice they were being disturbed till it's too late.

"Cas!" Balthazar bellows, "Double-taps!" 

It doesn't make sense, until suddenly it does, the Alphas drooping over the Omega aren't unconscious, not fully. These police-grade stunner darts are made to more than handle a raging Alpha, even one in the middle of mounting an Omega, at their peak. Yet they're still struggling upright. He hits them again, fast, even as he's swinging back to cover the downed Alphas to his back.

But it's too late. One of them is hitting him at the knees, tackling him to the ground, her eyes nothing but red with pinprick black dots as she overpowers him with a wild sound of rage. His trench-coat tangles his legs as he kicks at her, feeling a sharp pain in his thigh even as another crawling Alpha grabs for his now-proximate arm. But he gets a dart to the hand for his trouble and Castiel swings his aim back to the woman with a powerful hand around his thigh. As he fires she slams her other fist down on his thigh, jabbing him again with the pen, puncturing into the muscle painfully. 

They're surprisingly dangerous objects when used with vicious intent. 

He's nauseated from the adrenaline as he finishes emptying his clip into any Alphas he sees stirring, pushing away. Or perhaps it's more than that. The room is almost toxic with the levels of pheromones in the air, but Castiel is not about to let his baser instincts prevent him from helping someone in need. 

"Clear!" he shouts, pushing to his feet, stumbling when he tries to put weight on his right leg. But he hobbles back to the door anyway, rushing to back up his partner. 

Balthazar's call of "Clear," stops him short, however, and he doesn't continue out of the room given the whimpers coming from behind him.

He stows his pistol and hurries back to the table the Omega's stretched out on, dizzy as the adrenaline shifts back out of high gear and another system starts pushing for control. As an Alpha Castiel prides himself on his calm and his control over his instincts. He's the only Alpha to work sex crimes in a decade. But this… this hits his instincts _hard_.

He hauls the toppled Alpha up off the battered young Omega, thankful that her knot has gone down enough for him to pull her erection out of the teenager with ease. The scent of the Omega's heat and slick is like a punch to the face and Castiel reels as he drops the unconscious woman to the ground like the sack of shit that she is. The male Alpha who had been abusing the boy's mouth has already fallen free of him though he's still half-pinning the sobbing boy down.

He has to get to him. He _has_ to. The man gets halfway thrown against a wall on his way to the ground as Castiel growls in anger. And then Castiel realizes that it's the Alpha more than the police officer in him that's demanding he get his hands on the boy, and not in protection. Horrified nausea hits him at the thought.

"Bal!" Castiel hollers, head pounding with the overwhelming scent of Omega-in-heat. He stumbles back, shaking. His leg _hurts_ where that hopped-up Alpha had nailed him and he can't seem to calm himself down enough that the scent of the Omega isn't the loudest sound in his mind.

As an Alpha, even normally this situation would be difficult, but things like the waves of pain and fear flooding the room would usually be enough to have him shoving his aggressive Alpha instincts aside in favor of his protective ones and his humanity. But here, tonight, something is awfully wrong. 

Balthazar pops through the doorway, gun in hand at Castiel's shout, but he flinches as he gets a whiff of the room. As a Beta he won't feel it like Castiel does, but he can smell something is _wrong_.

The Omega's heat has been pumped up to levels that make it seem like there must be half-a-dozen Omegas in heat in the room at once, and the Alphas are all giving off pheromones that almost scream _rut_. Every second he stands there the more he feels like he might vibrate apart.

He tries again to move towards the door but his feet barely make it an inch.

"Bal. I can't seem to-" he curls over, breathing through his mouth, trying not to scent the air further.

"It's okay, I'll get him. Let's get you out first," Balthazar says, ducking under his shoulder and curling an arm around his waist and dragging Castiel forcibly back out into the main room and then beyond to the empty hallway outside the apartment. 

Once he's out the apartment door his feet seem to come back under his control and he takes himself back from his partner. "I'm alright," Castiel grunts and moves further away from the door towards a broken hallway window, giving himself a breath of fresher air while his partner disappears back into the apartment. He can hear the sirens in the distance, approaching rapidly so he's annoyed but accepting of the fact that he's not securing the scene better. Other officers, Betas will be there soon enough to do it in his stead.

Balthazar returns moments later carrying the whimpering bloody wreck of a boy out the door, still reeking of an absurd amount of pheromones. Castiel forces himself to turn and sprint _up_ the nearby stairs to keep from pursuing the departing Omega the way his instincts rage at him to do.

When he pushes out onto the roof of the building it's a huge relief. After a few deep, calming breaths, the urge to vomit begins to fade, as do the most Alpha parts of him. He stares up at the sky, trying to find his equilibrium, to understand what the hell was happening to him. 

The next thing he knows, he's jerking his gun into his hand automatically and whirling before he can even register what has him spooked.

"Whoa, hey! Hi! Mister cop man. Just me," the redheaded girl from earlier blurts, hands going up in the air. She's made a makeshift toga out of the blanket but she's still shaking, from the cold, from the adrenaline.

Castiel stows his weapon with an apology and she just bounces between her feet, brushing it off.

"No biggie. I mean. You didn't shoot me or anything so…" she shrugs. "Totally not the worst part of my night."

"Indeed." He lifts his eyebrows in agreement. "I'll do my best to make sure it will get nothing but better from here. I'm police detective Castiel Novak," he says, showing her his badge. "Are you alright?" 

"Been worse," she chirps. "Except maybe for the whole going into heat thing. That part is kinda terrifying."

His gaze narrows as she shivers. "You are chilled. We should get you down to the station."

"The police station?" she squeaks. Her head wobbles back and forth rapidly. "No, no, no. I am _not_ going to have my first heat in a heat tank. I've heard about the shit that can happen there."

He frowns, but he doesn't deny it. Though he know protocols have improved, his sister Anna's own experiences as an Omega have taught Castiel to never take the system's protection of Omegas as sufficient, even a system he is part of.

Her little chin goes up defiantly as she continues, thin arms clutched tightly around her middle. "Not if you ever expect me to testify. And I paid attention. I noticed stuff, okay? I'm useful and not even that high maintenance really, so I'm telling you, you do not want to piss me off."

Castiel tips his head and says gravely, "Of course not."

She eyes him suspiciously, then just as abruptly relaxes a little. She sniffs absently, testing his scent. "Okay. Um. So…"

He frowns. "If you're determined not to go to the station, then where may I take you? Do you have family?"

"I live at… well, _lived_ at the YABO shelter, until _they_ nabbed me. Actually, they've probably given away my bunk already."

"Even if they have not, they would never let you in again smelling like that," Castiel points out gently.

"Oh. Oh! Because. Shit, I forgot, I don't qualify for the Y part anymore. At least not after the next couple days. Shit, shit, shit!" she blurts, moving around in a frustrated circle, bouncing on the balls of her feet, body more than impatient to start running and never stop until an Alpha makes her. She's far too close to her heat for comfort, for either of them. "I can't go to the heat tank, I _can't_ ," she says, voice going high with panic.

"Calm down," Castiel orders, and the Omega responds to the Alpha immediately, stopping in her tracks and looking at him. Castiel-the-police-officer knows that taking an unmated unsheltered Omega to the tank is proper protocol, but Castiel-the-man almost never follows that particular protocol, much to Naomi's annoyance and grudging acceptance. It’s one of the only things he is adamant about. "I know of a place, where you'd be safe to have your heat in peace, if that's what you want."

"I sure as hell don't want a mate or baby at seventeen," she snaps back, though it's fear, not anger behind her sharp words.

"A friend of mine named Ellen Harvelle runs a place called The Roadhouse-"

"The _slickery_?" the girl squeaks, eyes wide. "Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not whoring-"

"It's not-," Castiel snaps before he purses his lips together and takes a steadying breath. "Regardless of what you may think of that particular form of sex work, The Roadhouse is also a safe haven for Omegas in heat. She'll give you a place to get through your heat in peace, nothing more, no strings of any kind. I give you my word on that." 

She lifts an eyebrow at him. "You're for real, huh?"

"I am," he agrees firmly. "I've worked with her to help a number of vulnerable Omegas over the years."

Her face pinches in thought and she starts bouncing between her toes again but he gives her a moment to think it over when his phone vibrates on his belt. He checks the readout before answering immediately. "Bal?"

"Where are you at love?" The sound of ambulance sirens are loud in the background.

"The roof, catching a breather with…" he lifts an eyebrow at the girl.

"Charlie," she blurts.

"Charlie, the other Omega. We're both fine. I'm offering to take her to Ellen's."

Balthazar sighs. "Yes, that does seem like it would be for the best. The tossers at dispatch sent an Alpha driver for the ambulance."

"How the hell-"

Balthazar grunts bitterly as he interrupts with, "Damned if I know. Something about bolloxed up swapped shifts or something equally insipid. Point is I'm stuck on board with the vic getting us to the hospital. Can you manage on your own?"

"Of course," Castiel says sharply, irritated at his fitness being challenged. Balthazar just snorts. Like Castiel he's probably chalking it up to the leftover adrenaline. "We'll be fine, though it would be appreciated if you could run a little interference with Naomi. I'll let you know if anything comes up," he says more calmly.

"Can do, Cassy, I always was better with the evil stepmother anyway," Balthazar sings back, his usual cheerful self.

Castiel won't deny that. Lieutenant Naomi gets under his skin.

"Okay," Charlie blurts when he hangs up the phone. "I'll go to The Roadhouse."

He looks at her studiously brave countenance and nods. "Then we'd best get moving," he says, leading the way to the fire escape as he flips through his recent calls in search of another frequent contact. The metal steps down are in decent condition and will provide an easier escape than the interior of the building that's now swarming with an official presence.

"Forgive me for calling this late," Castiel says, forcing himself to be humble despite the wave of challenge that washes through him when Ellen answers with a gruff "What?"

"I'm on my way with an Omega about to hit her first heat. Her name is Charlie and she doesn't have anywhere else to go."

He switches to headset as he leads them down the metal stairs, treading quietly as he can. Charlie's bare feet behind him are silent, though he can feel her presence close behind him.

"Well, hell," Ellen mutters. "Ash is out of town. Jo's still in heat and I don't have…" She sighs and he hears the sound of covers being thrown back. "Well maybe I can call Dean," she murmurs. "Alright. I'll try him but in the meantime bring her here. Push comes to shove we'll lock her in alone. Not ideal but better than getting raped on the streets."

"I'm inclined to agree," Castiel murmurs dryly before signing off. The escape ladder is obnoxiously loud in the empty alley and he hurries down it, urging Charlie after him quickly. He slips along the alley wall to peer around the corner. Part of him is annoyed at all the sneaking, though he recognizes it for the irrational Alpha influence that it is. The coast is clear, so he gives Charlie a nod and leads her away down the street to where his car is parked.

Full of nervous energy she starts to skip along ahead of him and he grabs her shoulder, hard, giving her a firm shake of his head when she looks up at him in surprise. "Walk. Behind me."

His training means he should be at point regardless, but he's not sure what will happen right now if he sees her run. He's too on edge to trust himself.

He's not going to let _this_ red-headed Omega down. No matter what. He owes Anna that much.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive is thankfully brief, though he puts her in the back seat in the opposite corner from him and rolls down his window just a crack. Enough to get him some fresh air but not so much as to leave her scent flooding the street in their wake.

Ellen's waiting for them when he punches in his security code and opens the back door to The Roadhouse. The sight of another Alpha after tonight's excitement, no matter how friendly or distantly spaced, sets his teeth on edge. But he tries to calm himself, if only for the sake of Charlie's emotional state by proxy. Charlie jumps as the heavy security door shuts behind them and cycles through its lock, and he puts a calming hand on her shoulder automatically.

"I'll be damned. Castiel, you didn't even get the girl any clothes?" Ellen demands, hands on her hips.

He looks over at Charlie speculatively. "She's sufficiently covered. I had no others at my disposal." Putting her in his own coat would simply have accelerated her heat, drenched in stressed Alpha pheromones.

"She's wearing a blanket," Ellen points out with an eyeroll, teasing to diffuse the tension in the air.

Charlie shrugs under the scrutiny. "Dunno, I kinda like it. Blanket toga. Bloga? Tonket. Yep, I'm good with my tonket. Besides, I'm just gonna want to get naked again soon anyway, right?" she says with a laugh, still hopping lightly between her feet.

Castiel nods solemnly. He can smell the pheromones curling slowly off her skin potently enough that it's a conscious effort on his part not to draw them in more deeply.

Ellen has no such compunction, moving a careful few feet closer and drawing in a deep scenting breath that sends her eyebrows up. "That you are. Got maybe six hours tops before it really hits."

"So you're, what, like the Yoda to Omegas around here?" Charlie asks skeptically, interested, but still staying far away from Ellen, halfway behind Castiel's shoulder.

Ellen just casts her eyes skyward. "Ash _would_ be out of town for this," she mutters, shaking her head as she leads the way back up the hallway that leads into the bar proper. "I do what I can is all. Same as Castiel here."

"If only it were enough," Castiel murmurs, uncharacteristically bitter, earning a surprised glance from Ellen before she pushes the decorative saloon-style doors open. 

"Well, should be helpful for Charlie here, anyway," she says, heading on inside. "Dean's got plenty of experience with heats since he ain't ever taken a mate."

"Wow," Charlie says as she steps through the doors after her. "This is like, straight out of _firefly_."

"That's the idea," Ellen says with a laugh, turning a softly proud look on her new-old-west themed bar. "Between Jo and Ash I really never had a chance."

"I've changed my mind, tonight is all kinds of awesome."

Ellen laughs again, shaking her head. "Well, Dean's on his way, so I think it'd be best if we just sit and have a wait for him out here, if that's all right with y'all."

It's not really a question, but Castiel nods absently. 

Charlie casts a nervous look at him and he offers her a tight smile. "I'll stay until he gets here so I can size him up for you."

She nods her agreement fervently. "Please. Thank you."

"You've not met Dean?" Ellen asks, surprised, then says to Charlie, "Have a seat, darlin'. I'll get you something to drink. Water or juice?" 

"Juice please," she replies.

"No," Castiel confirms. His name does sound vaguely familiar, like Sam or Jo has mentioned him in the past. "Should I have?"

She tilts her head in thought as she gets a small juice from the bar fridge. "Don't suppose so. You two are on opposite ends of the crew I guess. You're not around much for socializing, which I'd box your ears over if I had the time."

He quirks a tiny smile at her for that.

"Anyway, he and Sam butt heads too much, especially on the legal stuff, as you might expect, so makes sense you wouldn't see him when you're here with Sam. He mostly helps out behind the scenes here every now and again, pulls a bar shift on busy nights sometimes. But he's family same as you."

It warms him to be included in that grouping so easily. "Then it's good that I'll get to meet him."

She doesn't offer Castiel alcohol as she pours herself a drink because she knows he never drinks on the job. He only occasionally comes by the Roadhouse in his off hours but even then it's usually to talk shop instead of have a night out.

Charlie nurses her juice and slowly relaxes as Ellen asks her casual, friendly questions about who she is, where she's from, why she's out on her own. Ellen's skilled at handling nervous Omegas, not pushing too hard on tender secrets, but drawing them out enough to get a feel for potential options for their future. Over the years she's bridged a great number of connections to Omega-friendly workplaces and organizations, everything from shelters to mating services. 

Before long Charlie's talking rapid-fire, asking questions of her own about the slickery and the Roadhouse in general, now that she's realized some of her assumptions were flawed. Apparently the fact that Omegas can safely collect and sell their heat and arousal-induced lubricating bodily fluids no longer counts as whoring. It walks a fine line, he supposes, but if it gives Omegas some control and a source of income he's not going to question it. As a consumer and advocate both he has always thought it a valuable practice.

Then again, thinking about the heady, intimate scent of Omega slick isn't doing anything to calm him down. He does his best to turn out their further conversation and watches the door instead, waiting for the lauded Dean.

Castiel wants nothing more than to go home and escape from the overwhelming remainder of the world, but he's promised to see this through. He thinks he's managing well enough until Ellen calls his name for the second time and points out that he's pacing back and forth over the polished wooden floor. He stops pacing and heads back over to the bar, leaning on his hands against it and deliberately trying to calm his system. 

"Boy you sure look like you could use a drink," Ellen says, pouring him a finger of bourbon without asking.

"Since when do I ever drink?" he snaps. And then promptly takes the damn bourbon and tips it down his throat.

He stares at the glass in his hand, perplexed, as does Ellen.

Charlie makes a surprised and worried sound. 

He turns narrowed eyes on her, frowning.

"Hey Cas. Um. Did… did you maybe get nailed with a rutter injection-pen in all the-" she mimes pistols with her hands. "'Cause, you know, I'm no expert in," she waves her hands at him, "You know, _you_. But they had tons of that shit around and you seem a lot like how the other Alphas would get after injection." 

Castiel feels the blood drain from his face. "Fuck," he pronounces carefully, sitting heavily on the barstool, looking down at his thigh which is still throbbing dully. Of _course_ that's what it had been. "How did I not catch that?" 

"Rutter?" Ellen says, then swears under her breath and turns back away from the bar, heading to the end of it to the well-fortified slickery cage with all its lovely bottles of pure Omega slick on display behind the heavy, reinforced, decorative metal grates. She punches the code into the first door, then into the second, not bothering to close the doors behind her since it's just them in the Roadhouse this late into the night.

"Like. It takes a while to ramp 'em up, you know? Like an hour or two. I guess that's why they were always playing poker," Charlie says with a shrug. "That or they just really love the evil clichés."

Charlie continues to chatter but Castiel tunes her nervous voice out for the most part. Because he's still processing this new information about what he's in for in the next few days it takes Castiel a minute to understand what Ellen's doing as she looks through the inventory of refrigerated jars.

"D347, right?"

The donor code for the only Omega's slick he ever buys.

Charlie makes a tiny meep of giggling surprise, eyes wide as she looks at him. His cheeks heat up as he strides over to the slickery cage and hisses, " _Ellen_."

Ellen makes a sound of triumph and turns, slides the full-size jar through the dispensary gap in the antique grate. "It's called a present, Castiel. Friends give those to each other sometimes, you know."

Castiel promptly slides it right back, setting his jaw. "Ellen, I can't. That is far too much, far too expensive."

She shakes her head at the set of his chin and after a moment turns around to put the jar back. But she doesn't give up, just switches it for a much smaller jar. He opens his mouth to protest, then hesitates when the light catches the shine, a rush of desire flooding him at the thought. This is more the size he can afford when he splurges, but it's still several hundred dollars' worth.

"Ellen-"

But she's seen his hesitation and her voice is firm when she cuts him off to say, "Son you saved two lives tonight at the risk of your own. And you're getting a hell of a night or three of suffering for your troubles. It's the least I can do."

Charlie jerks back to her feet when they hear the sound of the front door to the bar opening. Then she's edging quickly closer to Castiel, which, though he understands, he wishes she wouldn't do. It just makes everything that much harder when a flood of nervous almost-in-heat Omega rushes his way. It's part of his nature to want to calm her and protect her and cover her- 

Ellen shuts the gates as she steps out and around the pass-through saying, "Probably just Dean."

But it's not the mysterious Dean who opens the saloon-style inner front doors.

"Sam?" Castiel says, surprised.

"Hey!" he replies, offering a friendly grin to Castiel and a politely wide berth to Charlie as he exchanges a warm hug with Ellen.

"Well ain't this a surprise," Ellen says, giving him a little shake. "Seems like I haven't seen you here in months, boy."

"Yeah, well I was getting a ride home from Dean when you called him. Thought I'd pop in and see if I could help or just say hi before I take a cab the rest of the way."

"Well now, isn't that sweet." She turns to Charlie quickly to explain why that's sweet even though she's now outnumbered three Alphas to one Omega. "Sam here is the special victims ADA, and he does pro-bono Omega cases when he can. Sam, this is Charlie. Youngin's about to hit her first heat so Cas brought her by."

Sam doesn't offer to shake hands, given that info. He's well aware of his towering Alpha presence and has always been careful with it in Castiel's experience. Instead he gives her a friendly wave that's too sweet to be awkward, and Charlie returns it with a gesture Castiel recognizes vaguely as some sort of nerd symbol Jo and Ash throw at each other occasionally. Sam laughs, returns it easily and Charlie grins, relaxing a little more. "Nice to meet you." 

He turns to Castiel as Charlie scoots carefully back towards the bar and her neglected juice. "Oh and Cas, before you ask, yes, I got a warrant. It's not a great one, but it was all Judge Moore would sign off on. It's a foot in the door. Michael's serving it right now."

Castiel nods sharply pleased that at least part of his and Balthazar's fuck-up will be mitigated. "I am very glad to hear that. I suppose we'll just have to hope for the best now."

Sam blows out his lips and lifts his brows in agreement. "The bust you made tonight should help. Since you can place him at the scene, it'll at least help us get more scope for the warrant. More if any of those Alphas flip on him and confirm his presence inside the apartment."

Castiel glances at Charlie. She bites her lip and he gives her a tiny shake of his head. He'll have Balthazar talk to her as soon as he can come by and get her statement and forward it on to Sam, but only once she's safely locked in her heat room. A couple hours delay won't make much difference on Sam's end in the middle of the night but it'll keep her safe.

"So where the hell's Dean run off to?"

Sam turns his grin over to Ellen again, "Oh, parking the Impala round back. You know how particular he is about the right parking spot away from everyone else who might dare park near him," he says, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, soon as he gets his baby settled he'll be in."

"Good," Ellen says, then turns to Castiel "See? We're all set now. Charlie's going to be in good hands and you have more pressing matters to attend to," she says, marching over and extending the jar pointedly.

"Badguys dosed him with rutter," Charlie stage-whispers to Sam, clearly having decided that he's one of the good guys. It earns a low, sympathetic whistle.

"Ellen," he chides, nudging the jar back towards her, cheeks hot in humiliation with the seemingly ever-growing audience to his predicament.

"Damnit, Cas, just take it and get the hell home," Ellen says, affectionately gruff as she shoves the jar into his hands.

Charlie fidgets and then waves at Castiel. "I'll be fine. Go. I've got your number and everything and I'll tell you everything as soon as I can, I promise, okay? Super triple pinky swear by Grathbar's Hammer."

Sam snorts.

"I have no idea what that means," Castiel murmurs, which just makes Charlie roll her eyes and grin. It makes him smile in turn, feeling a wave of affection for the girl who no longer reminds him of his sister save in appearance. But he _does_ have more pressing matters to attend to, so he nods to them all and turns, heading out of the room and making for the winding hallway to the back door to the facility to where his car is parked.

He walks through the dimmed hallway, looking down at the jar in his hands. Then he jerks his gaze away from it when his thoughts start sliding rapidly into what he's going to _do_ with it. How he'll be rubbing the pheromone-rich fluid into his knot, stroking it to size and tying it off so that-

The door opens abruptly and Castiel looks up as a man walks through the door, distracted, looking at his phone as he slips inside and tugs the high-security door shut along with him.

He opens his mouth to murmur a polite greeting and continue on his way out but Castiel jerks to a halt as the man's scent hits him. 

The _scent_.

 _The_ scent.

His heart kicks into overdrive and various glands flare to maximum output, flooding his system with adrenaline and hormones and everything that makes him an Alpha. Because _there he is_. The one. Right there. So close. So alone in a hallway where - 

"Ellen," Cas shouts, body moving inexorably forward, slow step by slow step despite his desperate struggle to stop himself.

The Omega - except this must be _Dean_ , he realizes. Dean whips his head up at the sound of his voice, dropping easily into a more defensive stance. He's _beautiful_. Stunningly so, with freckles and hair the color of wheat shimmering in the twilight, with eyes the color of spring grass and tart apples. It matches his scent, crisp, tart. Fresh apple pie dipped in sex and whiskey. Everything that's haunted his dreams here now in full sensory overload.

Castiel shudders with twin floods of horror and joy at the realization that there's no way Dean is going to be able to get past Castiel to safety. The hallway is too narrow, the high-security code-cycle door too slow and-

"It's okay man, I work here," Dean says, relaxing a little as his eyes skate over Castiel's badge on his belt. Not a lot, but a little.

"It is not okay," Cas manages. 

"The hell it's not. Ellen will tell you," Dean says, tensing again.

"Ellen, Sam. I need help, now!" Castiel bellows over his shoulder down the hallway, though he can't take his eyes from Dean, not even to blink. Then, more quietly, he pleads with Dean, "Please don't try to run. It will only make things worse."

"The fuck, dude?" Dean demands, sharp green eyes assessing the situation. He doesn't look too worried, but he doesn't understand what's happening, or who it's happening to.

The jar tumbles numbly from Castiel's hand, shattering on the floor and flooding the hallway with a stale version of Dean's scent. But he doesn't need the jar anymore. Not with the real thing in front of him.

Dean's face wrinkles at the scent, dismay and anger and embarrassment flooding his face in a rush.

"Whoa. Back off dude, I don't know what the hell you're thinking but I am not fucking interested," Dean snaps, voice rough as he reaches back for the door, jabbing at the lock cycle box.

"I know. I'm sorry," Cas grits out. But the sight of Dean attempting to flee combined with the intimate flood of slick scent in the hallway is just accelerating his already rapid loss of control. Cas surges forward, desperate to get his hands on Dean, to pin him down and take and mark and - 

Dean hits him. Hard. And it's good because it has him reeling, instincts not prepared for an Omega who fights like that. His rut stutters, primal side of his mind momentarily confused. Can't Dean smell how much he wants him? How much he needs him? Castiel won't hurt him, not really, he has to know that. 

Another blow comes his way and it's only a matter of moments before Castiel's other deep-wired responses come online and he's dropping into fighting mode, responding smoothly to Dean's next attack. Castiel winds his arms deftly through and under the next few punches and then he's slipping close, getting too-strong hands on a too-resistant body.

If he were just some random Alpha knot-head, if he weren't a trained fighter, Dean would likely have been able to hold him off. But not Castiel, not with his military training and his drug-hyped rut flaring high and flooding his system with too much adrenaline. He gets him twisted up in an arm-bar, slamming him face-first into the wall to the sound of a low grunt getting forced from his lungs.

"So perfect," Castiel murmurs, dragging in deep lungfuls of Dean's scent and grinding his cock against Dean's ass through the layers of their clothing. This is the worst and best thing he's ever felt in his life. He groans.

Dean's struggling against him, a steady stream of muffled curses coming out against the wall. But the Omega's own instincts are giving as good as they're getting. Arousal floods the air, the familiar scent of his slick adding its unique layer to the air. But it's so different. Fresh. Made just for him. _His_.

"Wanted this for so long," Castiel whispers despite himself, mouthing at the back of Dean's neck. 

Then suddenly the world goes spinning as he's yanked backwards. Years of wrangling unruly alphas have given Ellen just the experience she needs to have him in a headlock before he knows what's hit him. He snarls with rage, red edging his vision.

"What the fuck?" a hoarse Dean demands, furious, _glorious_ in his wrath as he pushes off the wall, rolling his abused shoulder once and then bringing his hands up again, looking at Castiel with murderous intent. 

He's beautiful. Perfect. Castiel strains towards him, ignoring the pain at his throat. In a moment, Castiel's body is going to remember that he's _very_ well trained and has plenty of ways to take down Ellen even from here.

"Dean-" Ellen warns as the Omega strides closer, fists curling up, ready to land another blow on Castiel.

"It's not his fault Dean," Sam says as he cuts in between them, shoving the Omega back with a familiarity that makes Castiel want to tear his throat out. But he can't be Sam's mate, can he? He doesn't smell mated. Ellen had said so too. No. He's ripe. Fresh. He's Castiel's for the taking.

The thought hits him like a punch. Castiel doesn't _take_ anything from anyone. Not ever.

"Sam. Help," Cas grits out even as he snarls, furious in the presence of another Alpha bent on challenging him.

But Sam's already moving towards him, lending his superior physical mass to the task of wrestling Cas away from Dean. 

"Damnit Dean just stay back."

Between the two Alphas, it doesn't matter how hopped up he is, how much Cas struggles. They are more than able to drag him away, up the hallway and even up the stairs, though that part isn't easy. But they do it, and get him around a corner to where one of the isolated locked doors is. Ellen punches the code quickly and elbows open the handle down, door falling open and the three of them tumbling into the small bedroom.

When the door shuts and cycles locked, separating him definitively from Dean and Dean's scent, it's enough to send him into a twisting fit of rage. 

"No!" Castiel shouts. "He's mine. Mine. Let me have him."

Sam slams him up against the wall, snarling back at him and holding him hard with Ellen right beside him, pinning him there till the rage wears itself out.

He comes back to himself for a few moments as the wave of adrenaline fades. "Thank you," he grits out, squeezing his eyes shut in humiliation. But his instincts won't allow him that defenselessness for long. His eyes snap open again.

Sam offers him a terse nod, a worried expression on his face.

"Welcome. Gonna let you rut it out," Ellen says, voice calm and all pragmatism as Sam carries him over to the bed and tugs him out of his trench-coat. Ellen strips Castiel's badge and guns and other personal effects with sharp efficient movements. "These'll go in the safe."

"Sorry," Castiel manages, twisting his fingers through the sheets to give himself something to hold on to. 

"Don't you apologize, son. Just glad you were here when it hit. I'm gonna call that partner of yours for you and find out what I can."

He nods absently but they're not important anymore. What's important is scenting the air for traces of Dean's scent.

The next time he looks down they're gone…


	3. Chapter 3

The room is made up for an Omega more than an Alpha, but much of the needs are the same. Sparse, bolted-down furniture, easy-to-clean surfaces. A small bathroom complete with shower and tub. Everything with rounded corners and no sharp objects anywhere.

It's not so different from a prison cell, except for the pleasant colors on the walls.

He could have been anywhere for all that it matters to his body. The next hour is spent in the thrall of the first pure rush of rut and all he cares about anymore is the fact that he's on this side of the door and the Omega whose scent has filled his fantasies for years is on the other side.

The door is more than secure.

Doesn't stop him from banging on it, shouting through it, trying to pry open the security hatch, or doing just about anything to get out of the little sterile room. Eventually he gives up trying to get through the door in favor of tending to the painfully hard erection straining under his clothing. His skin is burning now that he thinks about it. All of him is burning with need, hotter than he's ever burned before.

His clothes get discarded summarily and he sits, staring angrily at the door as he strokes himself to his first orgasm of the night. It barely touches the thundering tornado of _want_ inside him. In fact, all it does is make him more angry. He uses the semen as lubricant as he starts working hard towards another orgasm. Then perhaps he'll mark the door so Dean will be able to find him.

Except he's not sure that makes sense.

And then he's sure that nothing makes sense but that's not important… 

 

… Sometime much later he awakens to the sound of a bright knock on the door.

"Cassy? I've brought Gabriel with me. We need to check up," Balthazar says through the door. After a moment the key-code is being punched into the door and Castiel makes himself crawl a few feet away from it so that they'll be able to open it. He doesn't have the energy to even consider scrambling for some clothing to cover himself. Thankfully that means he's also too exhausted to really even contemplate getting up and bolting through the door before they're inside and shutting it behind them.

"Naomi is being a comfortingly normal tight-ass about this," Balthazar says, rolling his eyes and keeping the tone light as he offers Castiel a smile and a bottle of juice. "Needs an official report of your medical condition to approve your leave."

Castiel sighs, tipping his sweat-soaked head back against the wall. He swirls one of his hands in a get-on-with-it motion, far too tired to do something as high-functioning as forming actual words.

"I hereby officially declare you in a rut!" Gabriel proclaims with an imperious gesture as he grins down at him, earning himself a glare from Castiel. Balthazar doesn't bother to hold back the chuckle, which makes Castiel feel better that at least they're not tip-toeing around him.

"A pretty bad one, from what I hear," Gabriel continues, crouching down in front of him with his doctor face on now, inspecting Castiel's appearance with careful eyes.

Castiel lifts his eyebrows in agreement.

"This isn't going so great, huh? You’re only six hours in or so but you look terrible." His touch is clinical as he checks Castiel's heart-rate and temperature, noting things down quickly on his tablet as he gives him a thorough going-over. Even still, the touch on his skin is like fire, sliding through his veins and leaving him sucking in shallow little breaths and desperately trying to ignore the painful hardness at his groin.

"Do you _really_ need to actually dot your is? Can't you just fill it in with whatever and leave him to it in peace?" Balthazar mutters, whether on behalf of his own boredom or Castiel's discomfort he's not sure.

Gabriel makes a mockingly considering face as he rocks back on his heels. "Well, I suppose I could. If you want to have to get a new partner and a new favorite doctor because one of us will be dead and the other will be without a medical license. Sure. We could do that."

Balthazar's brows go up. "Come again?"

"See here?" Gabriel says, turning Castiel's bare thigh so they can all see the trio of angry red circles on his skin. "Hit him with triple the dose, at least."

Oh yes. Rutter. The illegal street drug he'd been dosed with. That was probably several thousand dollars' worth of product jabbed into his body. Lucky him. He lets out a broken laugh as he cracks open the juice bottle.

"Well, _cock_ ," Balthazar curses blandly.

"Yeah, it's gonna be a problem," Gabriel says, putting a butterfly needle gently to his arm and starting a blood-draw. He takes a couple vials, the blood flowing quickly and easily with how high Castiel's blood-pressure is. Gabe's hands are deft as he tapes down a cotton ball over the puncture. He fiddles with a new vial and syringe. "I'm going to give you a mild sedative to see if I can't slow your system down a little, but I've got to go do some research before I can do anything else."

Castiel nods and drinks more juice.

"And you haven't gone and gotten mated or found a nice fuck-buddy or anything since I talked to you last? Not that I'm at all sure that would be how we should manage it yet."

Castiel shakes his head as he finishes off the juice. "There's no one," he says, voice feeling like he's been chewing on glass. 

He looks away before he can see the flickers of pity, and once Gabriel injects the sedative into his waiting body, the fuzzy cloudiness that settles in is a welcome relief.

"Hang in there, Cassy," Balthazar says, and the open concern in his voice is what really solidifies how bad this all is in Castiel's mind before he drifts into unconsciousness… 

 

… He's on the bed when he wakes up. He's grateful for that. He's not so grateful for the fact that his cock feels like it's going to explode and his hand is not following orders to go deal with that yet. He turns his head on the sweaty sheets to look at the clock. Evening again. Not sure which day.

There's lube sitting on the side table, along with more juice. His hand starts to obey his will to put itself on his cock and though it lands heavily and uncomfortably, it's pressure, and pressure is what he needs. With an awkward combination of hip rolls and forearm motions he gets a few good strokes in and that's all it takes to tease the first load out of his dick. 

He lays there, sweating for a few minutes as the rest of the sedative fades and he can reach for the lube. There's a note under it promising him that someone will be bringing him some Alpha-appropriate toys at some point. The idea of knotting some plastic _thing_ sends a wash of anger over him and he stumbles to his feet.

He wants his Omega. He doesn't want a _toy_. He shouts as much at the door and bangs on it until his skin feels so hot he wants to die. He staggers into the shower and turns it on full cold and jerks off in the spray, the contrasting temperatures letting him have an edge of sharpness to his consciousness again, albeit only temporarily.

He masturbates twice before he realizes that he's shivering in the cold water. Then he drags himself out of the shower, toweling off half-heartedly. He doesn't make it any further than the door to the suite, the sudden reminder that his Omega is out there leaving him sniffing desperately at the tiny gap under the door. All he gets is the scent of dust. Even still his cock is hardening like he's in one continuous rut. At this rate he's going to have a heart attack soon. Death by orgasm. 

He supposes there are worse ways to go. He's come face to face with much shittier potential life-enders in his military days. His skin already burns and he struggles to sit up against the wall, hurrying to bring himself off again to try and relieve some of the pressure.

He passes out instead… 

 

… He wakes to muffled voices outside the door, feet approaching. 

"Cas is one of the good guys." It sounds like Sam. 

"He had a fucking jar of my stuff, Sammy, and _apparently_ mine's the only stuff he buys here. How is that not putting him into grade-A psycho category?"

Castiel flushes, both in humiliation and in renewed want at the knowledge that _Dean_ is just on the other side of the door. His cock is already swelling against his thigh, just from the sound of his voice, despite how tired he feels. 

"Dean, for a pro you really are such a prude," Jo's voice says. "There's a reason we provide this service. Having a stable scent for your instincts to work with-"

"Yeah, yeah, a great workaround for the unmated Alpha on the go. I've read the fucking pamphlet-,"

"Well then maybe you should be less of a dick about it. The guy likes your scent best. You should be flattered or whatever."

Dean scoffs.

"Dean," Sammy chides again, voice… brotherly? Yes, _yes_ , Sam has a brother, and though he doesn't remember all their idle conversations, the name Dean does seem familiar now in that context.

"I tell you he saved my life?" Jo cuts in. "Hell, Cas is a fucking guardian angel… he probably does it _just_ so he's better at his _job_ saving Omega _lives_ and putting away _rapists_. He probably does it just so he's less on edge around some random Omega in heat."

The security slot opens in the door and Castiel groans as the fresh scents of them slip through the slot.

"Oh hey! Hey Cas, brought you some juice and toast," Jo offers, sliding them through the gap.

"Thank you," he manages, fingers inching over towards the patch of light to take them, but his hand just lays there on the ground by the opening, too weak to do anything more at the moment.

She holds them a second, and when he doesn't take them after a moment she sets them down on the floor.

"Hey, you hanging in there?" she asks, light voice laced heavily with concern.

He grunts, not sure himself.

"Hey, uh," she says, voice taking a mischievous turn. "Want me to bring you some of your usual slick?"

"Oh for the love of-" Dean blurts.

"Jo!" Sam chides.

"Hey it might help! Dean don't get all pissy and storm off. Hey-"

Castiel jerks away from the door, away from the humiliation and awful rejection and crawls over to the bed to hide in his shame, to bury his face under a pillow. At least it'll be softer to die on than the tiled floor… 

 

… There are raised voices outside his door. Women. Ellen and Jo. And… Dean. Then Balthazar. A quieter voice he thinks is Gabriel. He can't understand them so he gives up and hopes to die soon… 

 

… A couple of Alpha toys are sitting inside the door, fake Omega channels with space for his knot. He throws them across the room and goes back to shouting his frustrations into his pillow. Then he goes and retrieves one of them and fucks it into the bed. It isn't much more satisfying even though it's _finally_ the right type of pressure around his knot. But it's nowhere near enough and it leaves him stuck inside a translucent coral pink monstrosity for forty minutes. When his knot goes down he throws it across the room again and tries to sleep… 

 

… He wakes up too exhausted to move. He stares at the ceiling, starts counting the dots in the mild texture. 

Dean has freckles. He wants to count his freckles. He wants to knot Dean and hold him down so he can count all of his freckles… 

 

… It's the next morning and Balthazar wakes him up. Castiel is not at all pleased to see his partner, but Balthazar does a good job of holding him down while Gabriel takes more blood. Gabriel pesters him until he admits that he tried the toys (yes more than once, damnit) but they did nothing to help. Castiel says some nasty things but Balthazar just taunts him right back and lets it slide off his shoulders. He ruffles Castiel's hair on his way out and nearly gets bitten for it but that's alright. He's a good partner. His wink tells Castiel they're alright. The worry on his face tells Castiel that he, however, is not… 

 

… Anna? It can't be Anna. Anna's dead. Castiel failed her. He turns away from the hallucination… 

 

… Jo is shouting again. She's shouting at several different people, he thinks. He jerks off absently as he tries to understand what they're shouting about and then he stops paying attention to her altogether in favor of fucking down into his hand and imaging he's mounting someone other than a pillow… 

 

… it's the sound of the lock cycling open on his door. He pushes himself upright in the bed but doesn't have the wherewithal to cover himself. That's alright. He's not body-shy.

When the door opens, it's Jo in person, smiling nervously at him. "Hi. Hey, Cas. You…" She laughs faintly. "You look like hell, man." 

He nods slowly, eyes sharp on her approach. Then he frowns. She shouldn't be here. 

"Jo," he breathes, waving his hand towards the door.

She'd be at risk from him. He can still smell the residual edge of her heat hanging around her, spicy and low and sweet and it sets his body back into gear, ready to go.

Or at least, his body tries to. Sort-of. It doesn't work.

"Your Doctor friend? Gabriel? He, uh. He's been doing some research and… well. Looks like you've pretty much only got one shot of staying alive right now until he figures something out."

"No," he grinds out, understanding suddenly when she pulls her top up over her head, long blonde hair falling down to brush over her small breasts.

"It's really okay Castiel," she says, slipping out of her clothes. "We're good friends, right? Hell, you've saved my life before. Now it's time to let me help you back. I can do that much, can't I?"

She's lovely, young and pert and soft in all the right places, and he should want her, he should want her so badly the way her body is starting to heat with anticipation. Nerves and arousal and deep affection are making her body slick and ready for him. His body tries, it tries to gear up for her, but nothing happens.

Jo just smells _wrong_.

He could tell himself it's because he's known her for so long, because he sees her as more of a sister than anything else. But the truth of it is he's already caught scent of the one he wants, the only one he wants. The one he's been unintentionally preparing himself for over the last two years. And she's not him.

"Thank you," he says gravely, pushing himself further upright with a truly unfortunate degree of effort. "You are truly kind and brave and I will never forget this."

She smiles at him as she sits down beside him, but after a moment the smile falters.

"But it's not going to work, is it?" she guesses, looking down at him. The lack of erection and any forward motion on Castiel's part are rather obvious signs.

He shakes his head once. 

"It's okay, we'll figure it out. Maybe the doc can give you a jumpstart or somethin'," she says, setting her hand on his knee. He shudders at her touch, face turning away sharply.

She pulls away quickly, hands up in a placating motion. "Well, can't say I've ever had someone react that way to a bed full of naked ol' me," she says with a laugh.

"I'm sorry, Jo. I don't know why it's…" He regards his body with a frown for a long moment, then shakes his head. "You're very beautiful inside and out and if it weren't for…" He grimaces.

"Dean?" she asks tentatively, standing back from him and picking up her clothes. "I heard what happened. How he was what set you off even though Charlie was closer to her heat. It's… only his slick you buy from us, ever. And it's the only stuff you use, ain't it?" she asks as she pulls her shirt back over her head.

He closes his eyes, embarrassed at being exposed for his little fantasy, the imaginary mate he'd never met. But he nods. 

She crosses her arms, mouth quirking. "You tell that doctor of yours that?"

"No. I have not told anyone about my masturbation habits. Somehow it never came up in casual conversation," he says drily.

She snorts as she steps into her pants. "You're supposed to tell your doc that sort of thing you know."

He glares at her, but there's no heat in it. She's right, of course. 

She sighs. "Listen, I'm gonna go get ahold of him and tell him that, see what he says."

"Jo," he says warningly.

She brings a water bottle over and sticks it in his hand, cocking her eyebrow in a gesture very reminiscent of her hard-nosed mother. "That ain't a question. You're going to let us help you this time around, Cas, and that's an order."

He frowns at her a long moment, then sighs and nods solemnly. It's not really going to get any more humiliating than it already is.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed. Nothin' wrong with it at all in my book. Hell I'd be out of a job if it weren't for conscientious Alphas minding their own thing like you. Dean's just being a prissy brat about it. So I'll make you a deal; we'll worry about Dean, you just worry about not dying."

"Thank you," he says and lays back down, exhausted after another round of counter-productive signals raging through his system.

"Hang in there Cas, y'hear?"


	4. Chapter 4

… He wakes from a fitful nap to the sound of more muffled voices arguing outside. He can't understand them so he goes back to sleep… 

 

… When the door opens again, Castiel groans, curling in on himself. He doesn't have the strength to deal with anyone else right now. 

But when the person's scent hits him, he's jerking up, stumbling off the bed to stagger to his feet, hitting the wall just past the foot of the bed.

"Dean," he rasps.

"Yep. That's what they call me." 

He's just wearing a thin grey robe, signaling his intentions immediately. And if the robe hadn't been clue enough, the fact that he discards it almost immediately cements it into place. He's comfortable in his nudity as he approaches Castiel but he moves slowly, hands up soothing like he's some wild animal. 

Not far from true. 

"I'm here now, sorry I kept you waiting so long." He might look certain but he still smells nervous as he lets Castiel grab at his extended forearms. 

Castiel gets his hands up higher, though he's not sure whether it's his intention or the Alpha in him that pushes at his shoulder, trying to turn him away. "No I. Can't do this to you. Go please," Castiel groans even as he pulls Dean's body tighter against his.

He pushes away from Dean a little, trying to get a handle on his depleted restraint. But Dean's not interested in his restraint in the slightest.

"Hey, fuck you," he says good-naturedly, half smiling over his shoulder as he finishes turning and plants his palms against the wall, beautiful naked back to Castiel. "Turns out I choose to be here."

And then Dean does the one thing Castiel will never be able to resist. He angles his hips and _presents_ himself. 

Castiel is on him in an instant, hands skimming over his ass, pulling him wider, coating his fingers in slick as he moans against his skin, teeth nipping at Dean's shoulder and the back of his neck.

Dean's scent spikes with arousal as more slick coats his hole, and his voice is gruff when he says, "I'm not letting you die if I can help it. I don't want to have to live with a dead guardian angel on my conscience okay?"

"Dean," he whispers, dragging his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on the perfect, hot and sweet nectar of Dean's slick. It's rejuvenating, the taste of him. For the first time in what seems like days, maybe has been days, his body isn't having to ramp itself up only to be shut down unsatisfied. He's getting exactly what he needs.

"Besides, you're kinda hot and I haven't gotten laid in a while," he says with a studied nonchalance, despite the way his voice tightens and his body shudders as Castiel's fingers slip into him again.

"You taste so…" Castiel groans around his fingers. 

"Yeah?" he asks, voice rough. "How do I taste?"

"Perfect," Castiel breathes. He drops to his knees, spreading Dean's ass to plunge his tongue into his shining pink-rimmed hole.

"Oh hell," Dean gasps out, thighs spreading further of their own volition. "Yeah, that's…"

It's ambrosia, having this straight from the source. Not some bottled facsimile. He's never going to be able to give this up. Balthazar will have to lock him up with the criminals he hunted to keep him away from Dean now. Or just kill him. Perhaps he'll just die from the ecstasy of all that is Dean and save them all the trouble. His heart certainly feels like it's pounding hard enough to kill him.

He laps at Dean's hole like he's dying of thirst. Probably because he is, in a way. He licks around his hole, licks into it, flicking his tongue against every centimeter of the steadily-loosening rim. He sucks greedily at each new trickle of slick that accompanies Dean's moans when he hits a particularly favored bit of sensitive skin. But when he starts plunging his tongue into Dean's body in a parody of fucking, another part of his body _demands_ its turn, furious that he'd let his tongue encroach so far into his cock's territory.

He's fairly certain the Alpha in him is going insane.

Castiel drags his tongue up Dean's spine as he pushes to his feet, ending with his teeth curving over the back of his neck momentarily before he wraps his arms around Dean's waist and drags him forcibly back towards the bed. But before Castiel can push him down into the sheets, Dean twists them, pushes Castiel back hard enough to dislodge him.

"On your back," he orders, cheeks flushing a glorious pink that Castiel wants to lick. Or pet. Or something. All he has to do is pin the Omega down and then he can do whatever he wants. That sounds like an excellent idea, so he reaches for him with renewed purpose.

"Back," Dean demands again, shoving him. "I'm going to ride you. Easier to knot that way the first time."

The Alpha growls in challenge at the blatant display of dominance from the Omega. He knows himself well enough to know that he _likes_ a dash of that perversion. He likes the fight more than the submission so many Alphas seem to prefer from Omegas. He doesn't want someone who will just be his bitch and demand nothing for themselves, someone too weak to be able to fight back. He doesn't blame those who do, those who have learned to submit to protect themselves. But he wants someone who can and will fight back. With someone like Dean, someone strong and fiery, he doesn't have to feel ashamed of wanting the fight, wanting to wrestle for dominance.

It's rare to find such an Omega. Another reason he rarely has sex, preferring to keep to his imagination where he can switch between tender domesticity and fierce contention among equals. Having Dean at all is surreal, hardly to be believed. Having Dean _challenge_ him is an impossible luxury and he throws himself into it. 

Except Dean's stronger than him right now in the state he's in, by enough that Castiel gets manhandled almost easily to where Dean wants him. It doesn't help that he gets completely distracted by the scent of him, the crisp apples, the whiskey. And the way his skin feels, warm and real and tingling with purpose and electricity. Then Dean's climbing up over his lap and aligning himself over Castiel's cock and Castiel is almost entirely convinced this is another hallucination.

Until it's very clearly not.

Dean drops down with one heavy stroke, plenty slick, plenty teased open from Castiel's tongue, and plenty experienced to do it with utter confidence.

Castiel bows up under him, fingers scrabbling against his hips for purchase as a wrecked, filthy moan rips through his throat. The heat. The chemistry of their scents and fluids mixing. The weight of him. The reality of it. It's all so much more than he could have ever imagined alone.

Dean's smirk is smug enough that Castiel growls, and it makes him determined enough that he musters enough energy to fight back a little. His hands clamp around Dean's hips and he shifts his feet closer so that when he lifts Dean up, he can thrust hard up into him even as he begins to lower him back. 

"Fuck," Dean swears when his thrust hits home, falling forward and snagging his balance with hands on either side of Castiel's head.

"That is the idea," Castiel grinds out, looking up at him with a raised brow as he thrusts again. Or perhaps a snarl. He's not quite sure what his face decides to do. But he already feels so much more coherent than he has been in days. This. He _needs_ this. And he's finally getting it.

Even as he moans, Dean's eyes spark with humor, a feral edge to the grin he sends down at Castiel as he rides through the desperate thrusts. "Damn straight," he mutters, shifting his balance a little more to reach down and grab Castiel's wrists.

With a blatant show of strength he pries them off his hips and drives them up over Castiel's head, leaning his weight into them and pinning him back against the bed. Castiel twists, fighting him, or trying to fuck up into him even without the hold on his hips. For an Omega to pin _him_. He makes an angry sound.

"Hold your horses there little Alpha, it's worth it," Dean says as he settles Castiel's hands where he wants them, leaning his torso down so that his face is close to Castiel's. "Pretty eyes," he says, nipping at Castiel's slight pout. Castiel growls at him but Dean just winks and snatches his mouth back out of reach when Castiel tries to bite back. Dean smirks at him.

And then he _moves_. 

The leverage gained from the new position gives Dean a chance to fuck down onto Castiel with fast, wild strokes. Dean does it with complete abandon, using a symphony of muscles in his whole body to ride Castiel's lap. The bed squeaks with the force of it, and the bounce of the mattress just gets worked into Dean's rhythm. The slap of their skin is loud in the otherwise silent room.

Silent save for the gasping moans he's making and the breathy sounds of pleasure and effort coming from Dean.

It's impossible. This is all impossible. There's no way he's actually being fucked by Dean, by the Omega whose scent leaves him panting. But it's happening. If he's honest, and Castiel tries to be honest, it's all he can do not to black out. When his knot swells to uncomfortable proportions, Dean doesn't even slow down, just makes the thrusts shallower, tugging on Castiel's knot with each bump. It's not anything approaching comfortable for either of them he's sure, but it's so intense, so much pressure after so long a wait, that Castiel isn't surprised that his face is damp with tears as he arches up under Dean.

He doesn't have the strength to breathe, let alone cry out when he comes. But Dean feels it, changes his motion abruptly to a low, dirty grind, rolling Castiel's knot around inside him. It leaves him dizzy and gasping, consciousness narrowed down to the tight heat that is Dean around his knot. Dean keeps grinding when even the slightest shift would be enough to pull Castiel off again into another orgasm. He rips several from him, each sending another load of come shooting up inside him, milking him for all he's worth.

Eventually there's no more to be had and Castiel is laying limp, boneless and exhausted. Dean sits back a little, stopping finally. After just a little extra pressure against Castiel's knot, Dean settles back into the rise of Castiel's upturned knees, leaning back like Castiel is his chair. The casual familiarity taken of his body has his instincts purring alongside the bone-deep relief that knotting him has brought.

"So," Dean says, a little breathless and eyes bright, holding out his hand. "Dean Winchester."

Castiel laughs, more than a little breathless. "Castiel Novak," he replies, taking the hand and exchanging a firm shake of calloused palms. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I know," Dean teases, smirking. 

And he's funny. It's too surreal. Castiel stares at him for a long moment then shakes his head in amused awe, eyes tracking down over Dean's body.

"May I?" Castiel asks, glancing down at Dean's straining erection laying against his belly.

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure. Please," Dean says, surprised. He sighs heavily in pleasure as Castiel's hand curls around his cock. "Uh, and. You know, thanks for asking."

"A habit I've never broken until now," he murmurs, too fascinated for there to be much bitterness in the words. He's more interested in stroking his fingers over the heated skin of Dean's dick. Something he'd never imagined actually happening. Having real sex with the Omega who produced the slick that he crafted into his little fantasy, that he'd stroked himself with so many times.

He grips tight, the angle not so different from how he jerks himself off. The scent too. He breathes in deeply as he pulls, eyes fluttering closed as he strokes harder, savoring the way Dean tightens around him, the way it's just like his fantasy but _more_. Dean huff a faint chuckle and Castiel's eyes flash open in embarrassment as he realizes Dean is watching him do so.

But Dean's already well on his way to being distracted into ecstasy as Castiel jerks his hand faster. He rocks against the knot a little, leaving Castiel gritting his teeth but Dean shuddering, cock tightening further. After that it's not much more than a dozen strokes before Dean is clamping down hard around his knot and erupting over Castiel's chest with his head thrown back. Castiel can't help but marvel at the sight. He's beautiful every way Castiel has seen him but like that…

Perfect.

The comedown is faster for Dean, being far less exhausted and only having to manage one orgasm. They each catch their breaths in silence. It's nice, until a few moments later it isn't when the awkwardness of the situation drops over them like a heavy, sticky blanket. 

"So…" Dean begins, squinting down at him. "Hear you're a…," he clears his throat, beautifully freckled cheeks flushing again despite the gruff expression on Dean's face. "You know. Regular customer."

Castiel closes his eyes, cheeks heating despite himself. This has gone from wildest dream to worst nightmare in a matter of moments. "I would rather not discuss it."

Dean snorts. "Hey, man, I've got your knot in my ass and you apparently jerk off exclusively with my slick. Think you owe me an explanation here."

Castiel frowns. He opens his eyes and fixes a hard look on Dean. "No more than you owe me an explanation for why you're currently wrapped around my cock uninvited and sell your slick to strangers."

Dean's eyebrows go up. "Huh. Can't argue with that I guess."

Castiel closes his eyes, ready to use sleep to run from the severe awkwardness that is going to be the next forty minutes or so, but it seem Dean's not going to let it drop.

"Okay, so, as far as my stuff goes, the money's good and the work ain't hardly work. And as for why I'm here? Well, that's pretty much because everyone out there thinks your life is worth saving, especially if all I've got to do is have some hot sex."

"You disagree?" Castiel asks, keeping his expression neutral.

"Hey, you did try to rape me," Dean argues, pointing at him.

"Yes," Castiel says solemnly. "And I would have had Ellen and Sam not been here to stop me. We are both fortunate that was the case."

"Shit, see? Our friends are some persuasive fuckers. You flat out admit it and I can't even be mad at you even though that should still piss me off." Dean heaves a sigh. "Anyway everyone was still set on saving your heroic ass and they talked me into it."

"What changed your mind?" Castiel asks, curious.

Dean scratches the back of his head, "Well. Besides the whole everyone-says-you're-a-hero shit… Charlie kinda pointed out that you were, well, you were basically being raped into raping me."

He kips his eyebrows up in understanding and agreement. He'll have to remember that for the inevitable department psychologist he'll be forced to see after this incident. Assuming he survives. He is exhausted after this latest string of orgasms but he feels more rejuvenated now that he's got his knot inside Dean, his scent in his nose again. 

"How is she?"

Dean snorts. "Never seen anyone handle a heat that well. Girl just," he gestures vaguely, "multi-tasks. She kept talking at me while she, uh, helped herself out. Already making plans for how to upgrade Ellen to an internet model for the slickery."

That gets a wry smile out of Castiel.

"But yeah, she had a point. Pretty sure Sam said the same thing right off the bat but, you know, I just tune him out when he starts talking legalese," he says, grinning as he makes a tossing gesture over his shoulder.

Castiel snorts. "So does Balthazar."

"Oh but not you? You a smarty-pants like Sammy?" Dean taunts, shifting his hips around Castiel's knot in a rough grind.

Castiel jerks as the unexpected motion floods his unsuspecting system with pleasure and pulls another load out of his cock. "Fuck," he mutters, glaring up at Dean. Dean just grins back at him, far too pleased with himself. Castiel sighs, dropping his head back and throwing his arm over his face.

Dean pokes his ribs. "Nuh-uh, none of that sleeping crap. It's your turn."

"My turn what?" Castiel asks blandly, not bothering to open his eyes more than a slit.

Dean fixes an unimpressed look on him. "I told you mine, you owe me yours. Said so yourself."

Castiel peeks an eye further out from the arm thrown over his face. "Technically I merely said that I owed you as much as you owed me. Since you owed me nothing and gave freely of your own volition, I, still, owe you no explanation."

"Shit, no wonder Sammy likes you," Dean says, but there's a hint of a grin on his face.

"He's a good man, your brother," Castiel agrees. But he sighs. Despite his arguing, it's fully fair that Dean ask what he's asking, even if his manner leaves something to be desired.

"It's… complicated. If you'll bear with me a bit?" Castiel says, squinting up at Dean.

The man glances down significantly. "Think I've got a little time to kill."

Castiel closes his eyes again, thinking over where to begin. "First I should probably mention that it's probably not nearly as disturbing as you seem to have first assumed. I've never known your name or laid eyes on you before this happened, nor did I ever wish to."

Dean doesn't say anything, though he does sigh faintly and Castiel can feel a bit of the tension leave his body at the confirmation of his lack of threatening intentions.

"The others may have mentioned that I'm a police detective. It is difficult for Alphas to work in special victims unit. Sex crimes are most frequently attached to Alpha-Omega dynamics. In some ways this makes Betas the ideal special-victims officers. They're far less influenced by the instinctual fallout of the crimes. On the other hand, it makes their understanding of the crimes… less nuanced, I suppose."

"I can see that," Dean murmurs.

"I'm the only Alpha special victims officer in the city in more than a decade. For an unmated Alpha, the job is very stressful. Omegas in distress, Alphas throwing down challenges, it's a fine line to walk. With a good Beta partner, it can be done, but it takes its toll, psychologically." 

"So why do it?" Dean asks, genuinely curious and without insult.

Castiel gives him a lift of eyebrows. "Balthazar's and my closure rate is triple that of the next-most-successful detectives in the department."

Dean lets out a low whistle.

Castiel nods, stilling the fingers he'd caught playing absently with the light hair on Dean's leg before looking past him again. "As an Alpha it's easier for victims and suspects to speak openly with me, to trust that I will actually understand what they're going through. I do, perhaps more than others." He pauses, frowning before he says softly, "My sister was an Omega."

"Was?" Dean confirms, face grim.

Castiel looks away. "As in past tense, yes. Being an Omega did not end well for her."

There's a silence, and Castiel is glad that Dean doesn't offer platitudes or prod for more information. He just offers a moment of respect.

Castiel gives Anna a moment of silence as well, staring at the bland walls he would have given anything to have been able to bring her to, to protect her within, then turns his attention back to the reason he's explaining all of this. The reason Dean's scent was the only one his body would now accept.

"More to the point, there are certain things that can be done to make it less difficult for me. If I were to find a mate it would be helpful for my emotional and mental stability in dealing with these crimes. But it would also very likely turn me from wanting to continue in special victims. It's rare for a newly-mated Alpha to remain because of the strain it tends to put on families." He tilts his head, pondering that a moment, then shrugs a shoulder to signify his lack of explanation.

"As you and Jo pointed out earlier, the pamphlets are correct; a stable supply of slick from a single Omega, used to knot occasionally, achieves a significant improvement in contentment and stability. In the past two years that I've been purchasing your slick, my case closure rate has been elevated and stable."

"Still doesn't explain why you picked me," Dean mutters though he looks significantly more mollified.

Castiel sighs, too tired to excuse or hide it. "Because two years ago when I first tried your scent I felt… whole. You smelled like home and mate and desire and all the things I can't have, all the things that I see damaged and warped on a daily basis at work."

"Had I not been drugged I would undoubtedly have avoided you in the hallway. Perhaps even tried to salvage the compartmentalization of my bedroom activities." His sigh is pathetically wistful and he frowns. "But what's done is done. I am sorry if my small domestic fantasy borne of your scent makes you uncomfortable, but I always knew it was just that. A fantasy. I hope that you will take comfort in the fact that it has saved lives."

Dean's silent and when Castiel looks up at him, his face is almost stricken. His expression shifts into something more neutral but Castiel doesn't want to see it turn to pity. "I hope that satisfies your question," he says. He doesn't wait for an answer before he closes his eyes again and turns his head into the pillow instead.

 

He wakes up again a bit later when Dean slips off his lap, but dozes again almost immediately, fully soft for the first time in what is probably days. It won't last, but it's a nice respite. Before his instincts can truly start to protest Dean's absence, he returns to slip in beside him in bed, stretching out to take a nap of his own after cracking open a bottle of juice. He leaves another one in reach of Castiel's hand on the side-table. He dozes again, grateful.


	5. Chapter 5

When Castiel wakes properly, it's to the feel of grinding his erection up between Dean's slickened ass-cheeks. His instincts flare into another overwhelming swell of need for that scent to be smeared all over and then plugged.

He rolls up onto his knees, straddling Dean's thighs, gripping his hips hard and dragging them up where he wants them, careless of anything else. Dean grunts out a bleary curse as Castiel's tongue pushes into him, chasing the taste of him and loosening him again for the inevitable approaching penetration. Once his brain catches up to what's happening to his body, Dean groans, low and pleased, arching into it and presenting himself again to Castiel. 

"Hell of a way to wake up," Dean muses, sounding almost cheerful as he twists his head to look back at Castiel. 

Castiel lifts his head and tilts it, gazing down at Dean with careful scrutiny as he absently licks his lips, not wasting a drop of that perfect liquid. Dean watches the motion and swears.

"Also. I should probably mention that when I said you were _kind-of_ hot that was pretty much a massive understatement."

The Alpha side of him isn't particularly interested in the word-sounds being made. It just demands that he go back to tasting his Omega. So he does. Dean doesn't seem to mind. Eventually Castiel's higher brain functions catch up and he almost laughs, except that he's in total agreement with his instincts at the moment. He's not sure there's anything he'd rather do at this moment than eat Dean out.

Well, his cock reminds him with a twitch, there is _one_ thing perhaps. And then it's abruptly the _only_ thing. He lifts his head again as his body stiffens, veins surging with the fiery and desperate _need_ to get his cock inside Dean.

He wants to ask for consent as much as he can throughout this but "Dean, I'm going to-," is all he manages in a strained voice as he lines his hips up.

"Yeah," Dean replies breathlessly, "Yeah, go for it."

And that's all he needs, really. He groans as he buries himself inside Dean's heat, earning a matching sound from the other man. He sucks in a slow breath against the dizziness the sensation leaves behind, then shifts his knees a little, gets his hips right where he wants them. But that's all the restraint he can manage before he's thrusting sharply forward again, starting up a rough and ready pace. He stretches up, arching his hands over his head and breathing in, letting his body loosen into the act of fucking instead of compressing down into it. He feels so _alive_ now. He'd been convinced he was dying not long ago but now he's sure he's going to live, so long as Dean stays right where he is.

And if Dean doesn't like that, Castiel will just have to make him.

He sets about doing just that, long slow strokes interspersed among fast, sharp little thrusts. Grinds and rolls and everything he knows he's capable of, just savoring every sensation, running his hands over Dean's body with reverence. He strokes each muscle, feels it move under him. Each freckle gets worshiped by a swirl of finger or tongue, depending on what he can reach.

"You know in retrospect I have no fucking idea why I didn't say yes on the spot. I mean, there's hot sex," Dean rambles, pushing up onto his hands so that he can ride back against Castiel. "And then there's _fucking a sexy amped-up Alpha in a rut_ sex."

Castiel laughs faintly in agreement, thrusting steadily into Dean's body. Though he might phrase it more 'there's fucking, and then there's _fucking Dean_ '.

"I wouldn't disagree. But on the other hand there's more to the decision. This isn't _just_ sex for you," Castiel points out, voice low and strong and no longer rasping or desperate, just alive with the sex he's being granted.

Dean shrugs, making all the beautiful muscles in his back ripple in a mesmerizing fashion as he says, "Kindof is."

Castiel splays his fingers over the muscles as he thrust into him again, then drags back slowly, savoring the slow drag of fresh slick filling the air with the scent of Dean's pleasure. "I simply mean, as far as consequences. You're a high-grade slick donor, so it's my understanding that you're not on suppressants." He thrusts deep. "Or birth control." Another thrust. "Or anything of the sort." He shudders with the animal spikes of desire those words send through him. He groans low as he rolls his hips in a savoring little grind.

Dean glances over his shoulder at him. "Yeah, they say it leaves a noticeable trace in the stuff," Dean agrees. He turns his face away again, going for studied nonchalance. "But, uh, it just never takes. Any of it. I've tried but…" He glances down at his body. Shrugs.

No mate. No babies.

Castiel thrusts home, then bends down to nuzzle Dean's neck, wanting to make the sadness in his scent go away. "I'm sorry," he murmurs.

Dean just grunts. "Yeah I'm kinda used to it. And it makes it easier to do what I do."

Castiel understands that, making do with the limits life sets. It explains part of why Dean's surprisingly close to Castiel's age. Most Omegas mate young, before their mid twenties at the latest.

"So yeah, anyway, fuck away," Dean says, reaching back and smacking his flank firmly with a deliberately saucy grin. "Try and breed me as hard as you want without having to worry about a thing."

 _Breed_ him? Castiel lowers his teeth to the back of Dean's neck, growling as he bites. "Fuck," Castiel hisses, slamming into him again hard enough that Dean laughs his way through a moan. 

"You can't just _say_ things like…" Castiel groans, nipping again at Dean's neck, too aroused to bother being embarrassed by how strongly it hits him.

"Like what Cas?" Dean says with a mischievous laugh. "Like how I want you to try to breed me? How I want your cock to fill me up with so much come that my body has no choice but to get preggers?" 

"Dean," Castiel moans, trying for chastising and merely sounding desperate. His hips are flinching forward of their own volition, cock twitching like it's ready to give Dean exactly what he's asking for, even though he's not there yet.

"Mhmm you want to breed me," Dean says, rolling under him, undulating his hips back against Castiel's for more force and grind to meet his thrusts, "I can tell you want to."

Castiel licks at the red teeth-marks on Dean's neck, trying to keep himself from biting harder for leverage to do just that. His thrusts have shifted from smooth and sensual to hard and needy and a sizeable part of him wants little more than to let them turn violent.

"Yeah. Just like how I want you to put your hand here," Dean grinds out, yanking one of Castiel's hands up and placing it low and tight on his abdomen, "And fuck into it like you can knock me up if you imagine it hard enough."

Though he's got a teasing edge to his voice, there's just as much honesty leaking through and it hits Castiel deep in his gut with need, with the desire to give it to him. He wants to mate him, to knot him over and over again until there's not a drop of semen left to give. He wants to give Dean that much, because he wants to give Dean everything. Castiel swears against his skin, fucking desperately into him.

"Fuck, Cas, fucking breed me," Dean gasps out, voice low and rough, abdomen flinching beneath Castiel's palm as Dean's hand jerks his cock in rough little strokes that are in time to Castiel's thrusts. "Come inside me like you mean it."

Oh, he means it. Castiel wraps both arms around Dean's body, palms flat on his abdomen where a child would grow if they were successful, if they were compatible and Dean were physically capable. Oh how he wants this. He tilts his hips and fucks toward his hands and Dean cries out at the new angle, a sound of raw, unrestrained pleasure that has Castiel murmuring a litany of "Mine" and "Mate" and "Breed you" against Dean's neck. His thrusts shorten as his knot swells fit to burst but he keeps the sharp angle till his hips lock forward and he cries out, feeling his come splash up against Dean's walls as he erupts again and again. 

Dean's shout as he comes is half-muffled by the pillow he's partway face-planted into, body jerking against the base of Castiel's knot, then clamping down hard around him as his come splatters up against his belly and the sheets. Castiel's cock pulses with another load in response as he holds Dean tight, hands still pressed to his abdomen.

"Shit," Dean moans after a moment, shifting his head so his face isn't quite being smothered. There's a smile in his voice and Castiel breathes a little more easily at the sound of it, glad that he hadn't made things worse by giving in to Dean's cajoling about the breeding.

"Got a little breeding kink going on there Cas?" Dean teases, tightening down deliberately around Castiel's cock, dragging another spurt out of him with a roll of his hips that presses against the hands on his belly. 

Or not.

"You are infuriating, you know that?" Castiel mutters. 

Dean huffs a laugh, "Hey, man, I'm saving your life. Just because I'm gonna end up ruining you for all others while I do it, well…" he shrugs.

Castiel stills. He slips his hands off Dean's belly, reclaiming his weight from Dean's perfectly capable back. "Oh, you accomplished that feat years ago," he says with as much lightness as Dean had tendered him, which is to say not nearly as much as was intended and far too much truth leaking through. "So please, fuck away, and don't worry about a thing."

He has front row seats to the way the muscles in Dean's back tighten and he turns his head away. Abruptly he wishes they weren't tied together so that he could go and hide his shame and sadness in the shower. But they are tied and his mood is likely pouring off his skin in waves so he's just going to have to accept that Dean's going to be privy to a great many of his secrets.

"I think I'd like to lie down and try to catch another nap, if that's alright with you," he says politely.

"Uh, yeah," Dean says, clearing his throat. "Yeah, sure."

Castiel's strength is definitely starting to return after the last satiation and rest, so it's not difficult this time for him to wrap an arm around Dean's waist and lift him bodily on the too-narrow bed, shifting him to the side a little so they can roll onto their sides together.

He isn't ready to actually fall asleep again, but he doesn't want to look at the mocking red outlines on the back of Dean's neck anymore so he closes his eyes and pretends.

 

His dreams are full of intermingled scents and easy morning sex and Dean's slightly-swollen tummy under his hands as they cuddle over their morning coffee. When he wakes gasping in the middle of the next wave of rut it hits him hits so hard that he can't do anything other than jerk Dean into something vaguely accessible and fuck into him roughly and deeply. Neither of them speak, they just fuck till he's knotted deep and curled tightly around his Omega.


	6. Chapter 6

The next order of business, once he can slip free from Dean's increasingly-abused hole again, is to relieve himself and drink down more juice. More supplies have been left just inside the door for them, food and drink and some fresh towels. He brings the food and drink back to the bed, setting them silently on the side end table. As he sits and stares at the gentle rise and fall of Dean's back he forces himself to eat the bland power-bar and tries not to think about how much better it would taste if he dipped it in Dean's slick before he ate it.

A mating kink was one thing, but _that_ … he laughs to himself and watches Dean sleep. Being able to smell him like this, to see the smear of fluid at his backside and thighs is almost as good. 

His hair feels tacky with sweat and oil when he runs his fingers through it, and his skin isn't much happier. With a soft sigh he gets up and leaves Dean to his well-deserved rest and heads for the bathroom again with more than just his bladder in mind. 

Catching sight of himself in the mirror is a bit of a shock. His stubble is dark and well on its way towards heading on to beard territory. His hair is a wreck and there are circles under his eyes. He looks even more pale than usual, and tired. It all makes the bruising on his jaw where Dean had punched him stand out. It is amazing Dean had ever chosen to come to him at all.

He showers because he has a moment before the next rush of rut is bound to hit, though the hot caress of the water is sensual enough to have him growing steadily harder no matter how much he ignores his cock. He shampoos his hair and even takes time to use the conditioner, despite his steadily-swelling urges to go back to bed, back to Dean.

Eventually as he's rinsing he can hear Dean pad into the room behind him and take a pee, then move over to the sink to brush his teeth. When that's done he heads towards the shower.

"How're you doin' Cas?" Dean asks through the half-drawn curtain.

Castiel just pulls the curtain aside the rest of the way and lifts an eyebrow, glancing down at his very erect dick. "Horny. How else?" he says with amusement as he curls a possessive hand around Dean' wrist and pulls him into the large stall, making a low, pleased sound as their bodies collide.

"Aw shit, not in here," Dean says, pulling back slightly, though he leans into the warm spray with a sigh and runs his hand down Castiel's flank. "Just gimmie two seconds to wash up and then we'll try and break the bed some more."

"You don't like shower sex?" Castiel asks, surprised.

"Nah, it's cool. I get it and all, you know, naked and hot and wet and whatever. It's just I hate being on the tile on my knees. Gets old fast, and my knees ain't getting any younger," he says with a grunt.

Castiel lifts an eyebrow. "I see." He looks down at Dean's body, at said knees and their slightly bowed stance. "In that case, I suggest that you don't get on your knees."

He drops to his own instead, mouthing up under Dean's cock, letting the refreshing shower spray down over him, enfolding him in warmth. His cock is most displeased at this turn of events that takes it further away from Dean's body, but he ignores it.

"Shit," Dean swears as Castiel's mouth closes around his tip. "Well, uh. Not gonna argue with that."

It doesn't take long before Dean is at full mast, soap ignored in favor of watching Castiel suck and bob over him. It's a selfish indulgence on Castiel's part. Probably more intimate than Dean's quite comfortable with, and certainly not physiologically necessary for the situation they're in. But if Castiel survives this, if he has to find some way to continue living his life _without_ Dean again, he wants everything he can get. The sound of Dean demanding that Castiel breed him is a treasure he will hang on to for the rest of his life, embarrassing as that may be. He's going to do his best to get as many memories as he possibly can.

The way Dean moans when Castiel swallows around him and then sucks hard, that's a memory for the vault indeed.

Dean's hands touch his hair hesitantly at times, then growing more confident when Castiel flashes an approving glance up at him.

"Hey, you uh… you ever knot someone's mouth?" Dean asks, voice somewhere between teasing and hesitant.

Castiel looks up and chuckles as he pulls off. "Are we going to play kink roulette till you uncover all my secrets?"

Dean just grins at him. "Hey, I figure this is all about as awkward as it gets, right?" he shrugs and scratches idly at his stubble. "Why not, you know, throw all the cards on the table while we're at it?"

And then Castiel understands that Dean is asking for himself, not for the sake of teasing Castiel about his kinks. He swirls his tongue around the head of Dean's cock before he pauses, tilting his head and flicking his eyes up to meet Dean's.

"I have," he admits, before sucking Dean down again, pulling a deep groan from him.

"Oh come _on_ ," Dean whines, tugging at his hair gently as his cock twitches. "Don't leave me hangin' like that."

Castiel laughs around his cock as he pulls back. "Just the once. It was rather uncomfortable," Castiel says, pumping Dean with his hands. "For both of us. But it was also… unforgettable." He pauses, tilts his head as he adds, "It has remained firmly among my favorite masturbatory fantasies ever since."

Dean looks down at him, lips parted. "Huh."

"Is that something that you want, Dean?" Castiel asks, voice gravelly as he licks another stripe down his cock. 

Dean's lip goes between his teeth as he stares down at Castiel.

Castiel flicks his tongue hard against the tip of him. "Would you say yes to me if I pushed my cock down your throat and asked to knot you?" His cock throbs with the mental image, of the way Dean's eyes would widen as he tried to swallow over and over until he finally just relaxed and let him blow his load down his throat.

"Fuck," Dean groans, tipping his head back into the spray. "Fuck. Yes. Yeah I would."

Castiel hums a moan and swallows Dean down as far as he can, pushing himself to open up as Dean would for him. Dean's hands tangle in his hair on a low moan. The Alpha side of him turns petulant but he ignores it in favor of swallowing even more of Dean. Opening like _Dean's_ the one who's going to throw a knot and lock himself inside Castiel's mouth. His only concession to his Alpha instincts is that he slides his fingers up behind Dean's balls, sliding up a _very_ slick perineum into his still-swollen hole. 

He curls his fingers inside Dean and pulls, driving Dean deeper into his throat by his sensitive rim. Dean's hands jerk in his hair, and then he's shouting hoarsely, dick erupting in Castiel's throat. 

The scent of fresh slick pouring out of Dean as he pulls away is beyond the limits of his already impatient Alpha instincts. His Omega is _gasping_ for him. More than ready.

He jerks himself upright and then his hands are gripping hard under Dean's buttocks. Dean swears but he gets the picture pretty quickly and hops up when Castiel lifts, wrapping his thighs around Castiel's waist and arms around his shoulders. Castiel doesn't waste any time positioning his desperately hard erection at Dean's entrance and then jerking his hips down to envelop it.

It takes a few thrusts to get his balance, to get used to Dean's mass and shape as he holds him up. Then he's pinning Dean bodily back against the wall, hiking his legs higher and just pounding into him. Dean holds on to any part of Castiel he can, broad hands anchoring against his neck and taut shoulders, but despite the precariousness of it, he doesn't tense or struggle. He _opens_ , letting Castiel inside him without resistance.

The Alpha in him roars in triumph at the way his Omega trusts him, cleaves to him. Castiel burrows his face against the warm pocket of air between Dean's shoulder and neck, where he's blocked from the spray of the shower and can just gulp in Dean-scented breaths. It's not much longer before he's straining up onto his toes, body going stiff as he lets out a guttural shout, embedding himself in Dean for the… fourth? time.

When he lifts his head, Dean smirks at him.

"See?" Dean says with a laugh. "Shower sex, man, I tell you, not as easy as it looks. And now what?" he says, squeezing down around the knot that's holding them together intimately and glancing significantly down at the wet and distant floor.

Castiel blinks up at him. "Now bed," he says solemnly, unconcerned about his ability to take his Omega wherever he likes with ease.

Dean rolls his eyes, but shifts his legs tight around Castiel's waist obligingly. Castiel slips his arms behind Dean's hips and pulls him away from the wall. Dean stretches out an arm and toggles the shower off. They run smoothing hands over each other's bodies to shake off the worst of the water, and Dean laughs as he sweeps the hair back off Castiel's forehead and probably leaves it askew.

He does have to be careful with his footing - Dean's no small figure, densely muscled and broad as well as tall. But Castiel isn't a pipsqueak either. Being an Alpha, a former soldier, and a dedicated runner all pays off in spades whenever his balance and endurance are tested. In fact he shifts, looking down at Dean's mostly-soft cock, wondering whether he can tease him over again before their nap. He holds Dean with just one arm and reaches down to stroke Dean's dick as he steps out of the shower. 

"Showoff," Dean mutters and he grabs a towel as they leave the room, then promptly drops it over Castiel's head, ruffling his hair dry and leaving him blind. It's a dangerous move and Castiel would growl except for the implied trust it demonstrates.

When Dean laughs, he shifts around Castiel's knot, causing him to jerk a step out of stride, and then slip a little on the shower-water dripping off them. But it's not enough to topple them. And Dean lifts the towel up to curl around Castiel's shoulders before they get too close to the bed.

He turns and sits carefully on the edge of the bed, giving Dean a moment to shift his feet before he lays back and settles them down successfully. None of it was entirely comfortable, but Castiel's never been overly familiar with comfort. The scent of _them_ is warming when he drops his head to the pillow and pushes it up out of the sheets. He breathes deeply, suddenly regretting the shower that had washed them clean of each other's smells in favor of soapy scents.

Exhaustion sweeps over him now that he's horizontal and the post-orgasm high is fading. He frowns. "M'sorry," he mumbles, eyes blinking and struggling to reopen. "Tired."

"Shhh, you're fine," Dean says with a level of fondness that makes Castiel smile. He rubs the towel over them methodically and says, "Sleep. I've got this."

Castiel sleeps.

 

The next rut hits him hard, and not in a good way. He feels drained, toxic inside for all his exterior is now clean. The only thing that doesn't feel awful is the tart, sweet scent of Dean somewhere in the vicinity. He pushes himself up, squinting in the dimmed room.

He spots Dean on the other side of the room, sitting on the plain couch with a small lamp on overhead with a book in his hands. He hadn't really taken the time to explore the room, but he is unsurprised at the idea that some of the drawers would contain distractions for in between heat waves just as much as they contained toys for Omegas to play with during them. Or at least he would be, if he were actually thinking coherently about anything other than putting his cock back where it belongs.

He stalks over to Dean, intent and already hardening just from the sight of his… of Dean, immersed in his book, oblivious.

The book in Dean's hands gets ripped away and thrown aside, ignored. Dean makes an indignant sound and tries to push to his feet, but Castiel is far too impatient for anything that isn't Dean presenting his ass, so he tugs Dean's arm around and throws his balance forward till he's landing on his knees on the couch and his chest is falling against the back. Making him present is almost as good as Dean presenting on his own. 

He doesn't so much as blink before he's parting Dean's ass with his other hand and sliding himself home inside Dean's body. He's not wet with slick, the friction uncomfortable for both of them if Dean's swearing is anything to go by. But that just annoys Castiel. His Omega should always be wet for him. Always.

He doesn't wait, and he's pleased when it only takes a few thrusts before Dean's body supplies the necessary lubrication so that he can fuck him in earnest. Dean tugs against the hand that still has his arm pinned up behind his back but Castiel just tightens his grip. 

"Okay, okay fine. Big rut."

Very. Castiel licks the back of his neck, pleased at the way it bows for him.

"But fuck, Cas, seriously, do not knot me on this tiny fucking couch," Dean protests. "There's no comfortable position here."

Castiel growls and increases the roughness of his thrusts. Clearly his Omega needs to be fucked harder if he can still bitch about locations.

Dean growls in return, throwing an arm around Castiel's neck and using surprise and leverage to his advantage as he kicks one leg out and hauls Castiel around and sends him sprawling. He scrambles to his feet even as Castiel lunges for him. Castiel sprawls even more awkwardly as Dean slips past him with a wild teasing grin as he bolts for it.

"Aren't you gonna catch-"

Dean's taunt is cut off with a rush of breath as Castiel _tackles_ him to the bed. He's nothing but instinct as he grabs Dean by the back of his neck, slamming his face down to the tangled sheets and bodily angling his ass up into the air, fresh waves of slick slipping out his reddened hole and making Castiel dizzy with the heady scent even as he slams his cock back where it belongs. 

Dean makes some sound of protest and he just digs his fingers into his neck, pinning him harder to the sheets and muffling his face against the pillow as he pushes his bodyweight up higher over Dean's prostrate form. His Omega should know better than to tease him, to run from him. Unless he wants this. Of course he does, Castiel decides. Every Omega wants their Alpha like this, desperate to prove how much they want them. It is his purpose to give Dean what he asked for. His thighs are burning from the angle as he covers Dean as thoroughly as he can but he doesn't care, he just fucks him like his life depends on it. Because it does.

He looks down so he can watch the beautiful sight of his cock plowing into his Omega, see the glistening slick on the skin stretched taut around his cock. Dean's hole is a little too red, a little over-stretched after so many rounds of vigorous knotting and though part of him knows he should be gentler, should be sympathetic, the dominant part of him revels in how _used_ Dean is becoming at his hands. At the bruises on his neck and hips and thighs. At the random scratches that mar both of them in places. He wants to wreck him for all others.

He rubs at the stretched skin, pleased at the whimpering shudder his Omega makes for him as he pushes down on his cock, stretching him further so that he can see a little gap. He teases his fingers at the gap, stretches it harder despite the whining sound Dean makes and the discomfort on his cock. He wants more. He gets the pad of his forefinger under it before he thrusts deep again. It gives him something new to pull against as he fucks out and back in again. 

Dean's body shakes as he pulls against his rim, fucking into him faster and faster. His knot swells steadily and soon he has to remove his extra finger because there's simply no more room. Dean's rim sucks and stretches more than ever against the swell of the knot on each thrust and it's so erotically hypnotizing that Castiel almost forgets to breathe.

Dean's fingers catch hold of his leg, scratching him in protest or want and suddenly he hears the desperate whimpers Dean's making against the sheets. It jolts him over in a rush and he slams home on a throaty cry. He collapses against Dean's back, six sweaty feet of Alpha covering his Omega as his cock pulses out each successive load. He bites hard and possessively at the bare shoulder beneath the hand that is pinning Dean's neck to the bed and gets a muffled curse for it.

It's about then he realizes how far gone he is.

"Fuck," Castiel swears, immediately releasing the pressure from Dean's neck and sitting back. He guides their hips down to something resembling comfortable with gentle hands on Dean's hips. "Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean groans softly in relief as he un-kinks his back and pushes up onto his elbows, but he laughs faintly. "Hey. Knew exactly what I was in for when I ran." He shakes the pillow out and fluffs it before dropping his head onto it with a pleased hum. "Got my pillow."

"Would you like to lay down as well?" Castiel asks, partly amused and partly concerned.

"In a minute," Dean grumbles, waving a hand uselessly at him. "'m good here for a bit. Always forget how exhausting that is."

"You run from rutting Alphas often?" Castiel teases, trying not to feel jealous as he rubs a finger over the teeth-shaped marks on Dean's shoulder.

Dean grunts in annoyance. "Not on purpose usually. Any unmated Omega gets that one the hard way eventually."

 _Shit_. Of course they did. 

Castiel feels a wave of nausea at the juxtaposition. He moves to withdraw his hands from Dean's skin, to give him as much distance as is physically possible, but Dean grabs his wrist and curls him closer till Castiel's chest is snug against his back, shifting them a little so he can lay down halfway on his side.

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that," Dean says softly, lacing their fingers together on his chest. 

He must be able to sense Castiel's lingering distress because he adds, "I chose to be here and I chose to push your buttons just now. If anything I should probably apologize to you."

Castiel makes a dissenting sound and lets his lips settle in soothing apology against Dean's shoulder. But he's not wrong, and there's no distress in his scent, so Castiel sighs and relaxes a little onto the pillow behind him.

They lay there in silence for a long while. He can't pretend that he doesn't enjoy that, sometimes, experiencing his Alpha instincts unchecked, especially not with someone he knows without question can fight back or wants it just as much. But this whole situation is a bundle of not-quite-consent that leaves him unsettled. Dean too, he thinks, though he denies it here. 

If they were really partners, he'd run soothing hands over Dean's body, reach for his cock and make sure he got as much pleasure out of it as he could give. But they're not, and though he wants to do all of that, desperately, it's not his right to do so. They barely even know each other and for all that he seems to have forgiven Castiel's predilection with his slick, it just makes Castiel want to avoid any further presumption of his person. 

He wonders what Dean is thinking about, if he's thinking about the same sorts of things. About Omega 'inevitabilities'. He knows Dean _is_ thinking. Despite how still he is, Dean's not asleep. Castiel has spent enough of his life in barracks and the like to hear his breathing isn't quite the flat and steady rate of sleep. He almost wants to ask but he also doesn't want to disturb him further, so he just waits. Counts the beats of Dean's heart through the palm held on his chest. 

Eventually Dean shifts just a little. Castiel can feel the muscles in his abdomen tighten faintly as he prepares to speak. Still, he's surprised when Dean asks, "So you really never wanted to meet me? Even though… you know, two years?" He sounds more than casually curious, and Castiel is glad of the fact that they're not facing each other right now.

"I had no illusions about the fact that the person you are and the service you provide are two separate entities," he confirms. Just like he has no illusions about the fact that this intense and strange situation they're in is going to breed an even stronger sense of inappropriate intimacy that he will have to be careful of as they go on.

"Oh," Dean says. "Yeah of course. Why would you?" he adds, covering the emotion with dismissive nonchalance.

"Still… I can't pretend that I didn't sometimes fantasize about it," Castiel adds despite himself. Dean deserves no less than the full truth. "That I might… bump into you. Randomly. An act of serendipity. And even though I'd find your scent familiar I wouldn't recognize why right away because we'd be too busy flirting. Grabbing coffee because going our separate ways seemed like a foolish thing to do."

Dean opens his mouth, then shuts it. 

He sighs, trying not to think about their hands laced together over Dean's chest. "Pathetic, I know."

"It's not," Dean says, voice rough. After a moment he makes a small amused sound. "Kinda chick flick, yeah, but… hell. Who knows? Honestly it's weirder that we _didn't_ ever run into each other. I mean, I've heard your name over the years being part of Ellen's rag-tag crew. Sortof vaguely knew you existed."

Castiel makes a hum of agreement. "Same here. It is… odd. In retrospect. Although I don't spend much time here. I mostly see Sam at work and Ellen and the others only when I'm bringing an Omega to them for help. Though Ash and Jo have been harassing me for years to come to movie night. I'm usually working, but it's become almost a running joke that they promise wilder and wilder rewards while I steadfastly refuse."

"Same here." Dean laughs. "Well hell. Maybe I'll go next time, just to mess with them."

Castiel smiles against his shoulder. "It would be worth it if only to see the inevitable implosion of nerd when Charlie joins the fray."

"I think Ash's brain might stop altogether. That'll be a sight to see."

It will be. Assuming he survives that long. The way his bones are aching he's not so sure he will.

After that the conversation slips easily into their shared extended surrogate family, to the network of Omega advocates they have in common for different reasons. Dean talks about how he met Ellen, and eventually his surrogate father Bobby who he works part time for as a mechanic. He explains how, growing up without parents altogether after age fourteen, raising Sammy on his own and hitting his first heat a year later had almost killed him, would have, if it weren't for Ellen's interference. He talks about helping put Sam through law school by doing some less than savory (or legal) things that a barren Omega can profit from, and never regretting a moment of it once Sam had passed the bar.

Castiel tells Dean about Anna, about how she hadn't been so fortunate as to cross paths with Ellen or have a brother like Dean. How his brother Zach's debts had led to the illegal but not uncommon sale of his sister while Castiel was overseas. When she'd escaped and Zach had been killed, Castiel had left the military to try and find her, which was how he'd met Sam, being the only person who seemed to actually give a damn during the case. He was the one who'd risked his career to prosecute the police officers who had raped Anna in the heat tank before setting her loose on the streets again and dooming her to her eventual death. It had been Sam's suggestion that had eventually led Castiel to put his military experience to use and take a job in the police force, to protect others like his sister, to fix it from the inside. He'd met Ellen through Sam and he'd been bringing vulnerable Omegas her way ever since.

They talk about better things then. Dean tells him about the Impala, about the road trips he takes when he's got a little cash to spare. Castiel tells stories about Balthazar's twisted sense of humor and the prank war that exists between him and Gabriel, which doesn't always go well for bystanders like Castiel, particularly when food gets involved. 

Dean admits that he's always secretly wanted to go to culinary school. Castiel tells him about the nearly-finished novel he's never told anyone about. 

Their tangled hands settle low over Dean's abdomen and neither of them mentions it.


	7. Chapter 7

When he wakes again his whole body aches. It's not a pleasant ache either. Except for his groin. 

That part is decidedly pleasant.

He blinks his eyes open and focuses on the sight of Dean riding his lap in slow strokes as he slowly jerks himself off. The lights in the room are dim so it takes hardly a moment for his eyes to adjust. He wonders momentarily if that means it's nighttime, but then realizes it might just be a concession to his sleeping.

"Somnophilia?" he says, voice sounding dry and gravelly.

Dean's gaze flashes up to his face, half a grin crossing his mouth before it splits back into a moan.

"Oh, hey. You're awake now." He pauses for a moment, but he can't seem to resist moving over Castiel's dick again, too far into it. "Uh. And yeah, somnophilia… a little. Sorry. I'd have asked first," he grunts as he rides back again, "but technically you started it," he says with a breathless laugh as he continues stroking himself. 

"I'll have to take your word for it," Castiel replies wryly.

Dean laughs again but he doesn't retort, too busy fucking himself on Castiel's cock. Castiel just lays back to watch, plenty content to let him continue since there is literally nothing he does not like about what is happening. He's close, given the unevenness of his strokes and the flush of his cheeks. His cock is straining hard up from his lap, glistening faintly and swollen a darker shade than usual he is so hard.

"Do I make a good dildo, Dean?" he asks, amused.

Dean curses, hips stuttering at his words. His cheeks flush wildly red, freckles standing out in the dim light.

Encouraged Castiel lifts his head a little to lean up on his elbows. He concentrates on staying still and just soaking up the sensations, the gorgeous sight of Dean working himself up and down in his lap. "You like that, don't you? Having me there, hard for you, just waiting for you to use however you like."

Dean moans, dropping back harder now, core muscles shaking with the effort and the closeness to his peak. At this rate Castiel won't be far behind him.

"Do you like fucking yourself onto me, Dean? Your own personal Alpha toy?" he asks, feeling his knot tighten further so that each thrust catches a little on Dean's rim.

"Sonofa-" Dean groans, riding harder against the knot, catching it half the time and not slipping past. "Yeah. My own Alpha toy." He rocks forward to a new angle, bracing himself with a hand on Castiel's chest, grinding his cockhead against the tight planes of Castiel's abdomen. "Come on, Cas, be a good little Alpha and knot for me."

With a request like that, how could he possibly refuse? Castiel bites his lips against a moan as the blood hits his knot all in a rush, swelling it to full size just as Dean slams past it, locking him in. He fights to hold still as the orgasm hits him, sending gushing swells of semen up inside Dean.

"That's right," Dean gasps, spilling himself into his own fingers as he rides up hard against the too-tight swell. "My knot. All mine."

Castiel groans, unable to resist twitching his hips up to blow a second orgasm through as Dean spurts again onto his belly, arm slipping down off Castiel's shoulder with the motion till he's half-laying on him, face pressed against his neck as the last tremors shake their way through his cock. 

They both lie there, catching their breath for a few moments. There's no drifting this time. They're both awake now instead of ready for another nap.

"Hey," Dean says finally, pushing up onto his elbow so he can look down into Castiel's face.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel replies gravely. Then they're both laughing, touching affectionate hands to each other's nearby bodyparts, greeting the morning. Or evening. Whatever time of day it is, Castiel has no idea nor does he care.

"So, what about you?"

"Hm?" Castiel asks, stretching slightly to reach a bottle of water and hand it up to him.

"The sleep sex," Dean says as he takes the offering and pulls the cap open with his teeth. "How's that land on your kink list?"

Castiel gazes at him, then slowly quirks a smile. "Well I certainly enjoyed waking up to that. As for the other way around…" He sips the water in turn when Dean puts the nozzle to his lips. "I've never tried it. But I would."

"Well yeah, I'm pretty sure the rules of kink roulette say you have to try anything at least once," Dean points out indignantly as he sets the water aside again.

"I didn't realize kink roulette had action rules in addition to truth ones," Castiel retorts, laughing. He tilts his head, eyes flicking down to Dean's lips a moment as his hands curl around his hips. "But in that case, is that an offer to let me avail myself of your sleeping body?"

Dean flushes. Clears his throat. "Uh. Yeah, it is." He shrugs away the embarrassed arousal at the invitation. "Hell, the rate we're going we might just have to trade off so we can get some shut-eye in between.

Castiel agrees with a sigh and a lift of eyebrows. "It's rather intense. I would certainly have expired by now without your help, Dean. Thank you."

Dean shrugs, looking away with a pleased smirk. "Hey, it's not like I'm not enjoying the hell out of it."

"Mm," Castiel agrees, tightening the hand on Dean's hip momentarily.

They sit in silence a moment, but it becomes clear that neither of them is sleepy enough to nap. Castiel tilts his head, drawing Dean's gaze again. "How shall we amuse ourselves this time? Embarrassing childhood stories? Some sort of game?"

"All I know are drinking games. Too bad alcohol would be a terrible idea right now. Never have I ever maybe? Though that's just going to devolve into more kink roulette, isn't it?"

Castiel laughs. "At least it's rather useful at the moment."

Dean laughs his agreement. Then he hesitates for a long moment. The easy conversation is caught, hitched on whatever is crossing Dean's mind. Castiel watches him intently, their eyes held in line with each other for longer than is polite. They stay there for the span of several breaths. Dean's fingers tighten faintly where they've settled against Castiel's ribs as he blinks, coming to a decision.

"So. Speaking of kink roulette…," Dean says, eyes drifting back to Castiel's mouth. "How do you feel about, uh, kissing?"

His heart stutters in his chest. _Oh._

He could say he enjoys the sensual and sexual act of kissing very much. He does, he always has. But that's not quite what Dean's asking. He _hopes_ that's not what Dean's asking. At least he _thinks_ he does. Everything is a little too messy and complicated in his head right now.

"I don't know. I've never kissed you before," Castiel says carefully, looking up from Dean's mouth to try and read Dean's intention in his eyes. It's a risk, but his fantasies and emotions are going to be a wreck after this, regardless.

"Well," Dean says, voice rough. "I guess that means we have to try it, right?"

He swallows. Disbelief, bone-deep need tangle in his throat. "At least once," Castiel replies. "Those are the rules."

Dean flashes a grin but it fades quickly as his eyes track over Castiel's face. He takes an abortive breath, then carefully lowers his head. Dean's lips are dry, warm when they touch his mouth. Softer than he'd expected given his gruff exterior and calloused hands. The kiss is gentle, chaste to start with. Genuine.

It's unexpected and almost painful, how soft it is. Castiel isn't naïve enough to think that he isn't going to be unduly influenced by his two-year fantasy of the softer more romantic connotations of having Dean's most intimate scent at his disposal. But he also likes Dean, finds him funny and refreshingly blunt at times but sweet at others. He's proven himself generous to a fault just by being here, instantly worthy of respect by being someone Ellen calls family and proving it again in his dedication to his brother. 

And of course breathtakingly attractive and sensual beyond measure. 

He could no more turn Dean away now than he could will himself out of his rut. But that's not what hurts. It's that it's Dean who's kissing _him_. No two-year fantasy to spur him on. Just what they've been through together these past few days. It almost feels like he's drowning the way Dean's face looks when he lifts his head.

He looks truly vulnerable for the first time Castiel has ever seen.

"So, what do you think?" he demands, cheeks flushing hot.

"I think…" it's perfect. Everything. Too much in fact. "It's definitely making my list. You?"

Dean licks his lips, "Uh. Yeah. Mine too." His eyes are a little wide, tracing over Castiel's face, no masks or walls drawn down over them. His lips part again before he says, "But, uh. We should probably try again, just to be sure."

"I think that would be wise," Castiel replies gravely.

The next kiss starts out gently but doesn't stay that way. Very slowly the pressure increases. Lips part and heads tilt. Tongues quest forward and breaths are shared. It doesn't devolve into making out. It's still kissing, slow and languid and exploratory. 

Though he's knotted inside Dean's body, _this_ is the most intimate thing they've done.

From that point on when they're not sleeping or fucking they're most often kissing. And it's not at all about a kink.


	8. Chapter 8

At one point he wakes up not to the rush of rut or the teasing touch of Dean but to the sound of quiet voices. When he sits up, bleary-eyed, it takes a moment to register that Dean's not with him anymore. Anger swells faster than reason and he lurches to his feet, stumbling around the corner to the door. But Dean's there, he hasn't gone. He's got his robe on and is talking with Gabriel in hushed tones.

Gabriel's head goes up when he sees Castiel and a warm smile spreads over his features. "Hey, Cassy."

Whatever Gabriel sees on Castiel's face has him adopting a faintly submissive posture and taking a judicious step back from Dean. It's enough to have Castiel's possessive instincts settling a bit as he walks over, better when Dean glances back at him and smiles, moving towards him instantly. Castiel still wraps his arms around Dean and presses himself tight to his back.

"So, you want the good news or the bad news first?" Gabriel says cheerfully, though he's clearly in doctor mode and not friend mode at the moment.

Castiel lifts an impatient eyebrow.

Gabriel makes a face but obliges. "Bad news is that it sounds like your ruts aren't winding down much at all. Dean's been timing things for you,"

Castiel looks at him in surprise and he just shrugs easily. "Habit."

He supposes that makes sense if Dean helps with Omegas managing their heats.

"Your rut is coming every two hours, which is only up by twenty minutes from yesterday, and your knot is _still_ staying forty minutes give or take a couple. At this rate, uh, the decline curve tells me it would take weeks for you to normalize."

"Weeks," Castiel repeats flatly. He sighs heavily and puts his forehead down against the back of Dean's shoulder. "I won't survive weeks."

"No," Gabriel agrees. 

Then there's no point in trying to put Dean through that. Castiel's arms tighten reflexively around Dean at the thought of letting him go. He turns his face in against his neck and breathes his scent. He sighs. 

"Dean," he says quietly, drawing in another breath of him, "you've been so generous and it's selfish to ask but I hope you'll forgive me one more round. I'm… not able to let you go right now." 

"Hey, no worries," Dean says, clearly worried.

Castiel nods, grateful that he's had this much, so much more than he'd ever hoped. He turns his face away, stands back from Dean as much as he can, though he never quite separates them. "After that you'll go with my eternal gratitude."

Dean makes a confused sound, brows narrowing. 

Castiel turns to look at his friend. "Gabriel, if I could trouble you to ask Balthazar to get started on the coroner and to bring me a stretch of rope? He knows the kind I-"

"No way," Dean blurts at the same time that Gabriel snaps "That's not what-"

Before he can protest further or Gabriel explain, Dean is twisting in his grip and marching him backwards to pin him against the wall. "What the hell, Cas? No. No fucking way. You are _not_ going to _off_ yourself. Not on my watch."

Anger sparks in his chest as he shoves back at Dean, furious and painful at the dismal ending he faces. "What is the alternative, Dean? You'd have me die slowly then? You want me to suffer?"

"I want you to fight," Dean snaps back as he grips Castiel's shoulders, fingers digging in hard. His eyes are bright with pain, with an older loss. His voice is rough as he repeats the words again. The anger drains out of Castiel then. They really know so very little of each other, though in some ways it feels as though they know each other's very souls.

"Oh Dean," Castiel says softly as he lifts a gentle hand to brush over Dean's cheek. A tear slips down Dean's cheek when he does and he catches it. "Dean, I'm sorry. Whoever you lost, I'm so sorry."

Dean turns his face into Castiel's hand, squeezing his eyes closed as he bites back a shaky breath.

Castiel kisses the curve of his brow, then rests his forehead against Dean's temple. "But this isn't the first time I've been faced with my own mortality. Far from it, in fact. I've always believed there's no shame in saving the last bullet. I've never wanted to go slowly. Please don't ask me to do that."

There's a moment of silence as they stare at each other, but then Gabriel is clearing his throat pointedly. " _Anyway_ , as I was _saying_ , the good news is that it's not accelerating anymore. Being with Dean is helping, so we've probably still got a little while to figure this out before you kick it. I'm not out of ideas yet so, you know, we can just keep on keepin' on."

"Oh." Castiel grimaces.

Dean's mouth opens, then closes and then he turns and lets go of Castiel, huffing an incredulous laugh as he scrubs his palms over his face.

"I just need another blood sample and then you two can go back to fucking like bunnies for a few days before we actually need to have the whole 'ropes and last bullets conversations'," he says with a mocking air-quote motion as he stoops to open his medical kit. 

Dean is still angry, still upset. Castiel doesn't even have to scent the air to know it. But he doesn't walk away. He thumps back to lean against the wall beside Castiel instead, touching him shoulder to hip even as he glares in the opposite direction, jaw clenching.

They remain silent as Gabriel draws more blood and then takes his leave, promising an update soon. When the door cycles closed again neither of them moves for a long moment.

"Dean," he begins.

But then Dean is cutting him off with an angry kiss, hard and desperate as he curls his hands around Castiel's head, pulling him close. He doesn't want to talk, that much is clear.

Castiel isn't going to deny him this, not after everything. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to fight anymore and if Dean wants to kiss him instead of talk, he'll take it. His robe gets discarded again, the set of his jaw hard and unyielding even as he mouths his way into Castiel's. Dean guides him back to the bed with slow, blind steps, never once lifting his head. He kisses like he's parched to the bone and Castiel is the oasis, even though it's the other way around. 

He presses Castiel down onto the bed, onto his back, just like the first time. When he finally lifts his head to climb astride him, Castiel just gazes up at him, saying nothing, leaving himself open to Dean's needs. Dean's face is still tight with anger but there's pain there too. Longing. Need.

Dean presses their bodies tight without mounting him. He kisses him again as he rocks his hips against Castiel's growing erection. It's a slow, intent motion, dragging the first hints of fresh slick that slip between Dean's cheeks over the heated flesh of Castiel's length as he plunders Castiel's mouth with just as much intensity.

Eventually, when they're both achingly hard, Dean lifts his head again, strokes his fingers through Castiel's hair and just looks at him, baring himself in his eyes as he gazes down at him. Castiel nods minutely, even though he's not sure what he's saying, Dean returns the gesture, and it feels right. It feels important.

Dean lifts up, shifting his hips into position over Castiel's straining cockhead and maneuvering him expertly into place without hesitation. He frames Castiel's face with his hands, looking down at him for a long moment, thumbs grazing his cheekbones. Then, slowly, he sinks down over Castiel.

It's surreal, this intimacy. They've done this so many times now he's lost count, and yet it feels like the first time when Dean tips his head back on a deep, quiet sigh as he bottoms out in Castiel's lap, mated as deeply as he can manage. They stay that way a moment, holding each other with a quiet tension. Then slowly Dean rolls his hips, creates the literal friction to match the metaphorical roughness of their intersecting edges.

Castiel carefully gets his feet under him so that he can thrust up into Dean. Not for the force of it, not to fuck hard up into him but so he can meet him halfway. So they can both ride up together. Dean lets Castiel help hold him up, lets him hold him steady while he uses his core to roll through the thrusts instead of his whole body to bounce over them. He lets Castiel move with him instead of against him.

It gives him the freedom to run his hands over Castiel's body, to touch, to explore. To tease at his nipples and scrape blunt fingernails down his ribs. To drop his head and suck a mark into the meat of Castiel's shoulder. To frame his face for another deep kiss.

When Castiel pulls Dean tight and curls a hard arm around his back, Dean doesn't resist. He lets Castiel turn them over, lets him lay Dean back on the bed so that he can take his turn, driving slow into him, exploring his body with careful fingers and rapt eyes. He doesn't add any new marks of his own, there are too many already. But he touches each one, anoints it with a kiss where he can. Reclaims it from the wild Alpha and makes it _his_. Castiel's.

When he looks down at Dean's face again, his summer-green eyes are open to him, steady and perhaps a little afraid, a little longing. He thinks his own must be the same. He puts a palm low on Dean's belly, wraps the other around his length. Every stroke into his body this time is about Dean, not Castiel. Every touch is about sharing this moment with him with as much purity and honesty as can be managed.

Dean never breaks his gaze, not even when he comes, breath hitching silently. Castiel isn't far behind him, and once that's done, once they're bound together again, he lowers his mouth to Dean's and finds him meeting him halfway.


	9. Chapter 9

Gabriel's prediction of days turns out to be wrong. Though the heats don't accelerate, the damage to Castiel's body does, and no matter how much they pretend, the efforts of the sex are starting to wear on them both. Gabriel isn't making much progress on coming up with a solution, no matter how hard he works or how many people he consults with. He draws blood regularly, and Dean and Castiel don't stop 'fucking like bunnies', but things only get worse.

His body aches almost constantly, bone deep. He looks pallid and half-dead already, even when he showers it doesn't improve. Worse, when they fuck it's no longer revitalizing like it had been in the beginning. It's hard to argue with the facts.

Castiel is dying.

He doesn't ask again for the fast way out. It's coming quickly enough and he doesn't want to see that look on Dean's face again. He's mostly just fading, and he doesn't really want to miss any of the time he gets to spend with Dean. He's less and less able to participate in their matings, but Dean is persistent each time the rut hits. 

It gets harder each time and his emissions fewer and fewer. He tries to tell Dean to stop but he refuses, demanding an orgasm from Castiel any way he can because the alternative is worse. Castiel eats and hydrates as much as he can stand when Dean makes him, but Gabriel's blood analyses are starting to show signs of organ failure. His kidneys and his liver are struggling severely with whatever the overdose of artificial rut has dealt him.

Eventually Castiel starts slipping out of consciousness more often than not and even when he's awake he's barely coherent. He's not going to ask for the fast way out, but he does want to say goodbye while he still can. So he asks for his friends instead. They've all fought so hard to save him. He wants to thank them in person.

Dean says something he doesn’t understand when he makes his request but he closes his eyes and doesn't try to figure it out. He knows Dean will help him. That's what Dean does. They'll come.

The next time he wakes up it's different. He's not in bed this time. He's on the floor, cradled in Dean's arms. He's not sure how he got there but that's true of a lot of things lately.

"Cas, hey," Dean barks. "Cas, you with me?"

Castiel blinks hard, trying to focus on his face. "Dean?" he murmurs. 

"Yeah. Right here, Cas. We're all here."

That's good. "Thank…" is all he manages.

"Yeah," Dean says, voice cracking. "Yeah we hear you, Cas."

A soft smile slips across his lips as his eyes focus momentarily on Dean's face. He wants to kiss him everywhere. "Perfect. Wan… taste," he slurs, fingers clutching uselessly at Dean's skin.

Dean swears but it's hazy. Fading. He closes his eyes, he thinks. Maybe they just stop working. Dean says something rude but it's not to him so he just curls tighter to him. Or he would, if he could move.

Castiel's just glad that when he dies it will be here, with Dean curled around him.

With Dean touching his lips.

Oh. _Oh_ with _ambrosia_ on his lips. He parts them, pleased at this parting gift. He somehow manages to move his tongue, to taste this offering. It jolts a new breath into him and he uses it to suck harder on the offered fingers.

He huffs his annoyance when they disappear, tugs impatiently on Dean's arm. But they return moments later with even more of the glorious nectar. He makes a pleased hum as he licks them clean. He opens his eyes, finding Dean's face again. He looks… surprised.

"Oh," Gabriel's voice says. 

Right. Gabriel is here too. They're all here. He has such kind friends. 

"Oh! The. Dean! That's it! It's the proteins. That's why I didn't see it in the bloodwork. The proteins that reconfigure when Alphas and Omegas-"

"Fast not nerdy," Dean barks at him, never tearing his eyes from Castiel's now that they're focused on him.

"Shit. Just. Keep doing that. With your slick. Uh… fuck. The metabolism should be fine," he mutters, thinking aloud as he pushes to his feet to pace. 

Castiel frowns as Dean removes his fingers again. "Greedy," Dean mutters, but he just shakes his head fondly as his hand returns with more slick.

"If it's… then the emission will remove the toxins but… No there's too low a transfer rate. How can we get the…," he paces. He's saying more and the others seem to be paying attention but Castiel can only seem to focus on Dean's face. He hears other voices, and then Gabriel says, "But Dean can't produce that quickly, even if I induce heat."

Heat? Castiel smiles slowly up at Dean, licking his lips. Yes, he would like Dean to go into heat. He would like to mate Dean, to breed him. Dean should go into heat. That would be good.

"Wait, wait," Charlie snaps her fingers frantically at the same time that Jo blurts, "Hell yes, there's more!" 

Charlie? That means she's made it through her first heat. That's good. He's glad he saved her. She'll like it here. 

"What?" Gabriel asks, confused.

They must have been in here longer than he thought if she's done. Not that noticing such mundane things as the passage of time had been important, not when he had more interesting things to pay attention to. Namely, Dean.

"Dean's slick. There's more. In the slickery," she says. "Would that help?"

"Yes. _Yes_!" Gabriel says, changing course and hurrying for the door as the others push to their feet around them. "Come on."

"Stay with me, Cas," Dean orders. 

Castiel frowns up at him, but he obeys and doesn't get distracted from the sweetness on Dean's fingers even by the realization that he can feel Dean's warmth against most of his body. Dean's wearing a robe. That annoys him. Dean should always be naked. It should be the law. He cracks a smile. He's 'the law', or at least a small piece of it. He could make that a law.

"What are you laughing about?" Dean teases him gruffly, eyes bright. So bright, like the sun shining through summer leaves. Like the first apple-tree buds in spring. Like young corn stretching for the sky. They should do things together, go places. Castiel should take Dean everywhere in the world in search of the shade of green that matches his eyes. 

He tries to tell Dean these things but words are still difficult, especially when Dean brings him more ambrosia and he's far too busy using his mouth for other things.

Dean's attention is jerked roughly away and after a moment Castiel processes that Jo and Charlie have come hurrying in with jars in hand. The Omegas seem the least squeamish about the natural bodily fluid, even more than Gabriel, though he is the first to open a jar and tip it over.

Castiel hisses in shock when the first splash of refrigerated fluid lands on his skin. 

"On his skin, everywhere. He'll be able to absorb it into his system faster the more surface area we cover."

His complaints about the cold don't slow them down. Jo just scoops more into her hands and starts rubbing it over his chest as Charlie heads for his feet.

"And I'm out of here," Ellen announces apologetically. It makes sense. She's the only other alpha who isn't related to Dean. The pheromones must be overwhelming to her as they are to Castiel. He breathes deeply as the slick starts to warm onto his skin, sending Dean's scent into the air even more richly.

"This is so messed up," Dean grumbles.

"How you are such a freaking _prude_ Dean I will never understand," Jo taunts, slapping a jar into his hands and then tipping her gaze significantly to Castiel's lap. 

Yes. Dean should definitely pay attention to his lap. Especially Dean. Castiel isn't body shy but he would much rather Dean be the one. Thankfully Dean only hesitates a moment before he scoops out from the jar and shifts to reach down under the towel over Cas's lap. He sends Castiel a wink that makes his eyes crinkle as Dean slides his hand against Castiel's skin.

Gabriel interrupts his field of vision, and before Castiel can complain, he lifts one of the small jars to Castiel's lips. "If you could swallow some that would be really good."

It smells cold and stale compared to what it's like getting it straight from the source, but Castiel opens his mouth, letting Gabriel pour it in. It still tastes almost painfully good. An exquisite luxury being poured down his throat, making him dizzy with needs his body's still too weak to attempt to satisfy.

"Good. That's good guys. Let's let it dry. Cas, don't shower until I say it's okay, you hear me? We need to let this soak in as much as possible, and then do it again later. Even once we get you through the woods, there'll still be a ways to go after to get you back to healthy."

Castiel nods. Jo backs away then, capping the jar she'd had open. Moments later Charlie does the same, having completed coating Castiel's body from the towel down.

"Told you the shower sex was a bad idea," Dean teases as he rubs the slick into Castiel's cock, then lower between his cheeks.

Castiel frowns. No. It had been excellent. Dean snorts at the look on his face and adds more slick to the fingers that are pressing up the crease of Cas's backside. Castiel frowns harder. An Alpha doesn't present himself like that when there's an Omega waiting for… no. He shakes off more mental cobwebs and deliberately spreads his thighs so that Dean can rub more on him - into him even. He's more than a knot-head and he's never let his Alpha side rule out _anything_ he wants to try.

"Kink roulette," Castiel murmurs. "Try everything once."

Dean laughs wetly, digging his slickened fingers deeper into Castiel. "Oh I'm gonna hold you to that, Cas," he says, voice going rough. His eyes are darkening with desire as he looks back up at Castiel, and he gazes back with just as much heat before Dean goes back to work.

"Cas, hey," Gabriel says, rudely dragging his attention away from Dean's freckles again. "You should ingest more, much as you can of this jar. We'll save the rest for later, but try and drink this little one." 

Castiel's nose wrinkles, dipping his finger in the fluid and considering it. "Doesn't taste as good from the jar," he grumbles even though he licks his slickened fingers. But then his eyes light on Dean and he smiles slowly. Who needs a jar? Dean's right here. He's still weak but surely he has enough strength to eat. "But if you insist, Doctor."

He pushes to his elbows with determination, then up to his hands. Gabriel seems to be preparing to hand him a jar to lick from but he ignores him. He pulls his hips away from Dean's ministrations and reaches for him with his hands instead, ignoring Dean's confused murmur.

"You should all go away now," Castiel growls to the room as he drags Dean around to face away from him. There's a chorus of protests but he ignores them in favor of tearing the robe the rest of the way off Dean's body, much to the Omega's surprise and indignant grumbling.

"Unless you particularly _want_ to watch me eat out Dean's ass."

He doesn't wait for the responses, he just pushes Dean over and spreads his flesh, though Sam's horrified groan and Charlie's excited grin before Balthazar hauls her away are probably going to be very amusing in retrospect as the room starts to empty quickly. He also ignores Dean's embarrassed hiss of _Cas_ in favor of immediately burying his face in Dean's crack.

He hears Gabriel tell Dean something, and Dean answers in similarly urgent, if embarrassed tones. Then the room is empty save the two of them.

"Guess it's working," Dean gasps out on a laugh as Castiel nods, dragging his tongue through his hole in response.

"So, uh, just so you know, exhibitionism in front of family? _So_ not on my kink list."

"Noted," Castiel says with a laugh as he comes up for air. But after that he makes it his purpose in life to shut Dean up of anything other than sounds of pleasure.

He licks until Dean's cock is hanging hard between his legs, sucks until his own is standing at attention again. He drinks until Dean is moaning and Castiel's body is shaking with the dizzy need for more than this, to bury himself into Dean. 

When he lifts his head the room spins. He falls back hard on his ass, and Dean turns quickly to look at him. "Hey, okay, that's enough. We've gotta take care of this now," Dean says, touching Castiel's throbbing erection.

Castiel nods numbly and lets Dean push him flat on the bed, lets him rearrange him how he wants him. Because he knows Dean is going to take care of him, he's going to bring his beautiful pink slickened hole up and -

Yes. Dean is sinking down around him, filling himself with Cas. It's literal chemistry, he realizes, feeling the tingling through his cock that spreads throughout his body. 

He feels drunk on it. Overwhelmed. It's not the same as before, he's not feeling like he's fading. But he's still running out of gas, just floating instead of disappearing. It's too much. He's vaguely aware of Dean riding him. Of there being words coming from his mouth. Dean. He should… he tries to focus.

"I need you to fight. Come on, Cas, come on," Dean urges. "I need you."

Castiel blinks at that, eyes focusing up on his Omega's face. His Omega needs him?

"Yeah," Dean breathes, latching onto the word that has his attention. "Yeah, I _need_ you, Cas," he confirms. 

Castiel nods minutely. He's tired, _so_ tired. But he has to help Dean.

"I need you," Dean repeats desperately, taking Castiel's palms and putting them to his belly so that he can feel the undulating muscles of Dean's abdomen as he rides. "Need your knot, need you to breed me."

Breed him. Yes. His Omega needs his Alpha for that. "Yes," he breathes. 

"Please, I-" Dean's voice breaks. "Nobody's ever been able to mate me, but if… Cas I need you to try."

"Mine," Cas says, hands tightening a little on Dean's belly.

"Yeah," Dean agrees fervently, riding harder. "Yeah, but you gotta mark me up inside. _Make_ me yours."

That drags a possessive growl from Castiel. Dean makes a responding sound, voice rough with want and frustration and desperation in his voice as he says, "Come on, Cas, knot me up so you can paint my insides with your come. Lock your seed up in me and make me yours." 

His legs are shaking with the effort as he clenches down around him, fucking hard against the swell of the growing knot. "Damnit, Cas, give it to me. Give me everything you've got. I need you to."

Dean needs him, and Castiel will oblige. The orgasm overwhelms him completely. He can't even breathe or see or do anything but explode into Dean. Even when he thinks that maybe he's done exploding, maybe he should come back down, there's more. He's still shattered into a million pieces, trying just to remember to breathe. For a long time he's not even sure of that.

He floats for a long while, vaguely aware that his body is still releasing itself into Dean. The thought of Dean, however, pulls some of the pieces back together. He focuses on that, on the perfect taste of him, the scent that feels like it's been worked into his very bones. Eventually he starts to see things again. See Dean.

Dean's relentless, still riding, still tugging against his knot, still clamping down around him as much as he can, dragging as many demi-orgasms out of Castiel as possible. Each one leaves him feeling a little clearer, a little more able to focus on the insanely beautiful sight of a sweaty, exhausted Dean Winchester fucking him with every remaining ounce of strength he has. Each time it's easier to come because he can feel more clearly. Hear the words Dean is intermittently muttering.

"That's right. Every last drop," Dean breathes as he milks another load from Castiel. "Mine."

"Yours," Castiel agrees firmly, and Dean's eyes snap up to his face.

"Cas, you're with me?" he asks, eyes worried, searching.

Castiel nods, and a beautiful grin splits Dean's features, relief painting his face a moment after. His eyes are shining as his hands come up to frame Castiel's face. "Oh thank god." 

He kisses him, hard and fast, but neither of them have breath for more. So Dean just lays over him, holds his eyes so he can see him, see the fog burn away with each pulse and roll of their joined hips. 

It's wonderful, and also rather uncomfortable, for both of them if Dean's slightly distended belly is anything to go by. But it's not the bone-chilling ache of dying, it's the sort of sensation that is a reminder that he is _alive_. That he's alive and Dean is here with him and for a while that's all that matters.

 

They repeat the process the next day after an extended bout of sleep. Castiel goes through three more ruts, but each one is further apart and shorter, till on the third one, his knot starts to ease almost immediately. He knows then on an instinctual level that it's over.

When he tells Dean as much, the Omega groans with relief and rolls off him, proclaiming that he's going to sleep for a week. He kisses Castiel and then disappears to go spread the news. Castiel smiles after him and though he tries to wait for him to come back, sleep claims him instead.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel is miserable, but that's to be expected, even a month into his recovery. For the first week he'd done little more than sleep and drink water and occasionally bathe. He barely remembered it. He certainly didn't remember them moving him home after the last rut had ended and he'd passed out for a good long while. 

He does remember that his friends had all come to check on him now and again, bringing him food and rambling on about anything and everything to keep him entertained. Gabriel told him all about how he was going to be an awesome case write-up for him to publish. Balthazar bitched about the rookie they'd paired him with temporarily while Castiel was on leave. Naomi had thankfully not come, but had sent a get-well fruit basket. Ash talked about Charlie, Charlie talked about Jo, and Jo actually talked about stuff that she and Castiel have in common. Ellen talked about the most mundane things, about the business and the Omega network. But sometimes she would get this look on her face watching him and he'd sit very still hoping that she'd say something. 

They still visit regularly, though less frequently. He is very grateful to all of them. Dean never comes, but then again, they aren't actually friends.

The deep intimacy they'd shared inside that room had been a unique situation. Out in the real world it couldn't be anything but awkward between them now. Castiel is, at the very least, still addicted to his scent. He's quite probably enraptured with the whole of him after having spent that time together, the reality and fantasy too entangled to separate anymore. To Dean it's probably much, much less. It would be next to impossible to be friends. He knows that. After the first few delirious days of asking and receiving only awkward silence in return, he never asked about him again and nobody ever said anything. It seems like the worst thing in the world, but his friends would never willingly hurt him, so perhaps the separation they're enforcing is for the best. 

He tries not to think about it.

Gabriel had said it would probably take four to six weeks for him to get back to normal, but even then it'll take a while for him to get really stabilized. Physically it feels like recovering from a bad bout of flu. Psychologically it's worse. He's frustrated by how much he aches, how despondent and hollow he feels. How it's only getting worse. The neurochemical wake of rutting was already rough, and this was inevitably much worse. 

He's alive, he reminds himself, so he has to have a little more patience. He's going to have to talk to his captain soon about whether or not he's going to be able to remain in Special Victims after this leave. His first instinct is to run from it, convinced that he'll never be stable enough for it again, but he tries to be patient with that too, for Anna's sake at the very least.

Still, it's hard to be patient when he can't concentrate enough to read, nor can he indulge his desire to go outside or go for a run - too many foreign scents for his system to handle, Gabriel had said. Best to stay inside as much as possible. Running on his treadmill helps, but not much. Masturbating is thankfully off-limits for a while yet, so at least he doesn't have to think about that at all. Except it's nearly impossible to avoid. Working on his novel reminds him of Dean. So does cooking. Standing in the kitchen with his morning coffee. Showering. Sleeping. 

Breathing.

There had already been a nice Omega-shaped space built into his biology. He'd responsibly tended that slice of his life, over the last two years he'd carefully carved out and filled it with Dean's scent and foolish fantasies before this whole thing had begun. But now there is a hole. A gaping, cannon-ball hole that he has no idea what to do with. He has no idea where to even start.

 _Dean_ his mind supplies unhelpfully.

But that's not an option. So he does what he does every day now and goes through the motions as best he can, eventually sitting down to write, to try and channel his emotions into _something_. Anything that isn't wallowing in bed, because he thinks he'll break if he stays in that too-empty space longer than is absolutely necessary. 

So he writes. He aches far too much today to concentrate so it's probably all entirely garbage, but at least it's something. 

Still, he's glad when a knock sounds on the door, even though it draws him out of his writing. He'll be poor company, but at least a visitor might distract him from how much he aches. He's been making progress of a sort but everything he writes is morose. If he's lucky it will be Charlie. She always has plenty to talk about and doesn't seem to need him to respond very much. She also doesn't know him as well as the others, doesn't send him as many pitying looks. He puts a smile on his face as he makes his way to the door, because he can do that much for his friends. If it's not Charlie then perhaps he'll invite her for dinner. He opens the door expecting to see a familiar face.

What he isn't expecting is the way his whole world seems to slam to a stop when he does.

"Dean," he says softly.

His eyes are somehow more green than he'd even remembered. His freckles brighter and the colors of his complexion more myriad. He looks even more beautiful, more perfect than is humanly possible, right down to the faint wrinkles of laugh lines he'd memorized. And then he realizes that everything hurts a hell of a lot less all of the sudden as he draws in the scent of him and time starts moving again.

Dean sucks in a deep, relieved breath, like he feels the same weight being lifted. "Oh thank god," he breathes in a voice that's broken and raw with need and relief. 

Then they're moving in unspoken accord, lips meeting first then bodies and limbs tangling together immediately thereafter. They kiss like they can blend together into one person, holding each other crushingly tight. Castiel pulls him into the apartment and shuts the door and then Dean is turning them and backing him up against it, kissing and pressing together till they can't anymore. Till they're shaking. He's breathing hard when he lifts his mouth and rests his forehead on Dean's.

"Hey, hey Cas," Dean murmurs soothingly, reaching up to brush aside a tear that's just edging over his eyelid when he blinks.

"Dean. You're here," he says stupidly.

Dean laughs faintly. "Yeah. Sorry it took me so long."

Castiel wants to ask why. For how long. He wants to beg Dean to stay, to stay forever and yet he can't possibly open his mouth because if Dean says no he's certain that this, after everything, will be the thing that kills him.

So he just stares, just drinks in Dean with his every sense, studies his eyes as Dean studies him in return.

And then Dean swallows. He puts on a cocky grin but it doesn't reach his eyes. They're still vulnerable when he opens his mouth to speak, and Castiel doesn't dare look away or do so much as breathe.

"So, uh, listen. I know we haven't known each other very long but, you maybe want to get coffee or something? Because I've got this feeling, call me crazy, but I'm just _sure_ that going our separate ways would be really fucking stupid."

Castiel smiles then, finally. He reaches up to run his palm along Dean's cheek and Dean closes his eyes, leaning into his touch faintly. There is serendipity here, after all. 

"Yes," Castiel says when their eyes meet again. "I know exactly what you mean."


End file.
